There Will Be No Kneeling
by TeamAwesomeLives
Summary: Following the end of the 24th Avenger Games, Logan has to deal with the fallout of being a victor and everything that entails. Meanwhile, in a secret SHIELD facility, those that died in the Games are being revived by the Tahiti process in order to run missions to begin a rebellion. But there are more players involved than even Fury realizes...
1. The Fallout

**Notes from the creators:**

 **This work has branched off from the Marvel/Hunger Games crossover called "In the End You Always Kneel." If you've read it, you know that it recently ended - and if you haven't and want to know what we're talking about, you can look to our profile for a quick summary and/or link.**

 **So, at the beginning of 2016, when "In The End You Always Kneel" was still a work in progress, a few of us writers (particularly of the Team Awesome flavor) got together to speculate about what we thought was going to happen. The only one who knew the endgame was our leader, NicKenny, so this was all just pure "what if" stuff, which, honestly got kicked off as a way for us to make an end game to finish our chapters. Of course, but… Somehow it ended up becoming its own thing, taking on its own life. It allowed us to really explore the Avenger Games universe and our characters to their fullest potential while we were in between rounds.**

 **Now, with the end of "In the End You Always Kneel" and the ending that none of us saw coming, all of those "what if" plans are of course complete fabrications, since the next round will be DC characters only (which, sadly, invalidates ALL of our theories). But they were still really, really fun to write, and it seems a shame not to share, though we decided to sit on our hands and wait until the epilogue went live before we shared in case we hit too close to home and accidentally spoiled ourselves for what was to come. Seeing as that's not the case, here we are, with pages and pages of stuff that is now totally invalid to the narrative over there.**

 **So to be clear, this is an AU of an AU, just us sharing something that got us through the days of having no idea where we were going and just having fun. We'll be tweaking what we started out with a bit to reflect how Logan won (when we started out, we had plans for a four-person brawl between the Final Four because that was all we knew at the time) as well as the logical emotional fallout from there.**

 **Of course, the beginning chapters will also need to be slightly tweaked. We wrote most of this back in April-Julyish, so we had the final fight being between Kate and Logan. Clearly, that's not what happened, so we have to do a bit of rewriting to reflect that, but those are the ONLY changes we will be making. Everything else will be just a better (read: not written at three in the morning while giggling at each other's drunken spelling) draft of what we wrote all those months ago when it comes to the Tahiti program (we saw that mention and we ran with it to its logical extent) as well as Fury's plans (since we didn't know them; we made up our own) as well as, I kid you not, we picked out 24 tributes we wanted to see in the next round and wrote them into the Tahiti program after their own Games. We even had multiple timelines with ideas as to what would happen for different victors. Maybe one day we'll show you some of those, but it is not this day. :P**

 **We…. we wrote a lot, guys. It was at least a million words. I'm not even exaggerating. It was probably closer to 2 or 3 million. When we stopped working on it and got distracted by other projects, we were almost a decade's worth of material into this sandbox. Our teenagers were fully-realized adults looking toward lives and families after everything they'd been through. There were Tahiti revelations. Hydra plots. Government upheavals. **is the hype woman for this fic y'all.**

 **Now, since none of us knew about the DC twist until the Epilogue went live on November 15 (we found out with all y'all who read along with us), there is NOTHING from the epilogue in this. In fact, we're going to start you out in the immediate aftermath of the last day of the Games, and have a bit of editing even from the end of Logan's last chapter of ITEYAK. Forget what you've read about Ra's and HIVE and everything else - we're sticking only with Marvel for this one because that was what we knew when we started the "Great Writing Frenzy of 2016." And besides, we're kind of huge Marvel fans. This is our playground.**

 **Anyway, let's start out in the Capitol and take a peek at how the Games have been affecting our mentors and stylists, and then you'll see our plans from there. Because seriously, while we were waiting for the epilogue, I kid you not, there were VOLUMES of speculative fiction being written. We have plans. We have plans WITHIN plans. Strap in, y'all, for the alternate, Marvel-only, "what we wrote when we had no idea what was happening" version of the Avenger Games. We hope you enjoy seeing where our brains took us while we were hanging out in this playground, and hey, we might even continue it beyond just what was in our original sandbox. Who knows. The Marvel universe is huge, after all.**

 **But without any further ado…. *presentation hands***

* * *

 **Chapter One: The Fallout**

* * *

 _Day 14 of the Games, July 19_

 _Capitol Building: 4th level: Mentor and Stylist Watch Room_

* * *

The viewing room was almost completely silent by the time the Capitol feed showed the hovercraft taking away Tony Stark's body, the image of the short, stocky tribute on the screen watching Stark leave the only thing playing on multiple screens. They were near the end of the Games, so gone were the multiple angles. All that mattered was the action. Kate Bishop, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner — they were nowhere to be seen, at least for the time being, though that didn't mean they weren't in danger. It just meant the Capitol was playing up the drama of its finale, weaving a single storyline.

For a moment, all eyes in the room were on Rhodey, the youngest and most recent victor. It was the worst-kept secret in the Capitol that James Rhodes had been hoping Tony would win, if for no other reason than he wanted to have the next victor in his district, to return the favor of helping him transition that the other mentors had granted Rhodey after his own Games.

The mentors were deadly silent. They had all lived the Games, and they knew that the finale was only going to take its toll. But the Capitolites in the room, the stylists and the escorts — they were chatting quietly, some about their bets as their own tributes were long out of the game and others living and dying with every second their kids were still breathing.

"Is it bad that I'm glad it was him?" Jubilee asked Noh-Varr at a whisper. It was her first year styling for the Games, and all of the stylists had made a point to keep an eye out for her, since Logan was her tribute, and it was clear he was going to be at least in the final rounds since fairly early on. The Games were emotionally taxing for first-time stylists who didn't know enough yet not to get emotionally invested in their tributes, though even a few of the older crowd still made that mistake.

"If it is, I'll have to apologize to Johnny Storm for being glad when Elektra died," the older stylist replied with a sigh. He was the stylist for Twelve, and despite having been through a few Games already, he was glued to the screen rooting for Kate. "It's the same every year. You get used to it."

"I hope not," she said as she blew her bangs out of her face.

He reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Well, you don't get _used_ to it. But it gets easier, in a way."

Jubilee turned to look up at him for a moment, and with the driest expression she could manage, she just raised one eyebrow. "Noh-Varr, you are a terrible liar."

He matched her raised eyebrow with one of his own. "You'd think I would get better at lying in a profession like ours," he said with a bit of a teasing tone, though the conversation went quiet once more as the cameras followed Jubilee's tribute — the angles and the lighting the Capitol's editors were using making it clear another confrontation was building.

They hadn't spoken about it, not yet, because they had been close friends even before Jubilee got the District Seven stylist spot, but both of them were dreading the confrontation between their own two tributes. Noh would be lying if he said he didn't want Kate to win, and Jubilee… it was clear she was devastated for Logan already even with his amazing ability to survive. So there was almost a palpable breath of relief shared between the two of them when it was Bruce Banner, of Six, who met up with Logan in the arena, though it didn't make the danger any less pressing.

"This isn't good, is it?" Jubilee said quietly as she took a hold of Noh's arm.

In answer, Noh couldn't help but glance at the District Six victor, Johann Schmidtt, whose eyes were glinting with excitement and malice. He'd made it clear for _years_ that he wanted another victor from Six, a boy, not the redheaded girl that was his own daughter, and even with Bruce's radiation poisoning, he was enjoying the show, knowing the Capitol doctors might even be able to fix Bruce so Schmidtt could mold him to his own image.

"No. No it's not," Noh said at last, sounding almost weary as he just pulled Jubilee almost into his lap. Some of the other stylists looked their way with disapproving little tuts, especially the uppity one from District One, but neither of them was going to apologize for having actual attachments to these kids or to each other. They couldn't help it, really.

They watched together as Bruce Banner and Logan fought, and with every hit — regardless of which tribute it was — Jubilee flinched.

"I'd say you don't have to watch, but I know you won't leave," Noh whispered, his face almost in her hair as he was just trying to hold her steady. His escort counterpart, Ian, was shyly offering the same to Darcy Lewis of Six for Bruce's sake, but she looked more furious than anything else - since her tribute was coming into this fight poisoned. She was still mad about that, convinced it was some kind of punishment for Bruce saving another tribute's life instead of taking life.

But then something about Bruce changed, mid-fight, and the tides looked like they were turning in his favor as he started just thrashing Logan. Schmidtt leaned into the screen closest to him, all but blocking out the view of some of the other victors who were watching with him, until Ophelia Sarkissian lazily drawled out a soft complaint that he was going to make her miss the best part, and Jubilee shuddered a bit at the nearly predatory grins the two victors shared with each other in anticipation.

"That woman's the worst kind of snake," Jubilee muttered quietly, though she wasn't even blinking as she stared at the screen.

"Tivan would agree; that's why he called her Viper after her Games," Noh whispered back, watching the others more than the fight just to glare at anyone who looked to be judging the youngest and newest stylist for how much each blow was costing her before the finale was even set.

"If you're going to cry, do it somewhere else," Shiklah, One's stylist, sneered Jubilee's way. "You'll ruin the finale for the rest of us."

"Relax," Sarkissian all but purred out. "Enjoy the show. They've both gone to the trouble of losing their shirts. Delicious." She trailed her long fingernails over her lips as if she was enjoying a snack.

Schmidtt was on the verge of celebrating when Bruce just .. stopped as one of Logan's claws pierced through his leg. The change was so quick it didn't look like either tribute quite knew what had happened right away, but from the change in the room, it was obvious those watching had caught on a bit quicker, especially if the soft sound Jarella let out was any indication. The green stylist was riveted to her screen, apart from Schmidtt and Darcy and just… still.

The fight ended quickly from there, and when the screen flickered with Bruce's name and district number, Jubilee let out a little bit of a rush of breath for just a moment. "This is so much worse than just watching it at home — without _knowing_ them," she said softly as she watched Jarella get up and quietly excuse herself from the room.

"That is the only way the Games could possibly go on," Noh told her in his lowest tones. "If we _knew_ them, we'd never…" He seemed to trail off and check himself. "There would be some other system."

The moment of reprieve was short-lived, however, as almost as soon as the anthem had stopped playing for Bruce, the screens flickered with a new image, this one of Kate making her way through the streets. The light was dimming by then, so it was hard to tell how much earlier or later this was from the fight they had just shown, but now it was Noh's turn to half hold his breath on seeing his own tribute at the finale.

Jubilee tried to give him a reassuring squeeze, biting her lip as she watched, looking every bit as nervous for Kate's well-being as he was, while Victor Creed seemed more engaged in this fight than the last two, leaning forward with almost a smirk.

There was a bit of a murmur from the gathered Capitolites when the camera panned to reveal Kate's opponent. It was no secret that open betting had been taking place on the outcome of what seemed to be an inevitable confrontation between Kate and Logan, and when they saw that it was Steve Rogers… well. Their murmuring began in earnest.

"Must be saving her fight with Seven for the finale," muttered Obadiah Stane, the other victor from Three. "Damn Capitol drama. All the technology they have to use and it comes down to one kid with a stick and string and another one that's barely one step above the animals." With how quiet it was as everyone watched the finale, it was easy to hear his commentary, and Jubilee and Noh both glared his way.

"Dinnae listen tae him, lass," Moira, the Seven escort, said softly over Jubilee's shoulder as she came a bit closer to the two stylists. "He's jes' cross."

"He's not wrong — about the finale, that is," Noh said quickly. "My Kate can take this so-called captain."

Jubilee nodded but just looked that much more at odds with herself as she glanced over to Creed, who looked just positively tickled with the showdown. "She's fierce," Jubilee said finally.

It seemed that was the consensus in the room, as already several of the victors were shooting halfway consoling looks Peter Quill's way. It was no secret Quill had been pulling _hard_ for his tribute, and Steve was well-liked, but this far into the Games without a kill made it hard for Quill to get any sponsors. The odds were just not in his favor.

So it was shocking to the point of bringing a hush over the increasingly excited gathered group when, after Kate had gotten the first few hits in, Steve nearly broke her arm — and the tone of the fight had clearly shifted. No one had expected this.

Jubilee watched in total shock, one hand firmly over her mouth as the fight waged on. It was dirty and not at all as one-sided as some of the victors had assumed it would be as Kate gave it to Steve with every ounce she had.

And as for Noh, the normally eloquent blue stylist had gone simply silent. Of the two of them, everyone in the room had assumed Jubilee would be the first to start to cry over her tribute, but that simply wasn't the case as the fight dragged on. The outcome was inevitable as soon as Kate's leg was broken, but it went _on_ , and even though Noh was trying to be discreet about it, Jubilee could feel his shoulders shaking behind her. He'd only beaten her to the emotional punch by maybe a few seconds, though, as the youngest stylist simply started to cry on her behalf as well.

They weren't alone, either. Even the Capitolites, who were so used to flitting through the Games, were glued to the screen as the two tributes inevitably trudged slowly, painfully onward. Honey Lemon had of course been a mess for days now since her tribute, Peter Parker, had died, but even Nine's stylist, Warren, let out a noise that sounded like it simply couldn't be held back when Kate first mumbled Logan's name.

Though ... it was the scream at the end that broke most of the room, the emotion palpable in the air as even those whose tributes had been long lost were just still. Noh had all but collapsed against Jubilee, shoulders shaking, completely abandoning any pretense at restraint, and Black Bolt… Black Bolt simply stood up and walked from the room, though not before giving Creed a look that could have killed.

Jubilee had no words as she tried to comfort her friend, ashamed of herself that she was, in fact, a bit relieved that at least Kate didn't have to deal with Creed at all. It just wasn't an option. And it wasn't a choice that Logan had to weigh out anymore.

Creed, for his part, looked like someone had just snatched the shiny toy he was waiting for, but he was still engaged, knowing that all that was left was the two boys going into the final showdown.

"Typical," Stane grumbled as Kate's face and district number flashed on the screen. "Play up the drama and she can't deliver. Remind me again why we even have these little girls in the Games."

"Lasted longer than your little whelp," Creed half growled out. "Or was he wearin' a skirt instead of chasin' em?"

"Really, boys," Sarkissian said smoothly. "Put the rulers away until after the finale. No one wants to listen to that right now."

"What's your problem?" Creed directed at Viper. "Still got a whiny little frail in the final two anyhow. Look at 'im. Even Twelve had bigger balls than that."

"He's still clothed too," she sighed out without missing a beat as she watched the camera following Steve. "We were teased with so much more."

"Yeah, that would have been a good final fight. Twelve and Seven half-dressed and going toe to toe? Ratings _miss_ ," Johnny Storm said with a little shake of his head.

"Shut up, Johnny," Quill muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm just saying - when's the next time we'll have a shot at something like that on prime time?" Johnny asked with a grin. Before Quill could correct him, Jessica Drew reached out and slapped Johnny in the back of the head without a word spoken.

"Still got my money on Seven," Ross said with an unconcerned shrug. The Eleven escort looked entirely relaxed and even a bit annoyed by some of the muted sniffles echoing the room from that last fight. Honey Lemon in particular was a mess but didn't want to miss the end of the Games, sticking it out "for Peter," she said, because she wanted at least one member of his alliance to survive. And Noh of course was just _gone_.

Jubilee looked around the room quickly and seemed as if she was holding her breath. She wanted to tell Noh they could leave, but she couldn't quite tear herself away from the final fight.

When the final confrontation between Steve and Logan began, it was pretty clear that although the fight wasn't edited, they were being very careful to only use angles where you couldn't see that the boys were talking much. But it was painfully obvious that whatever was being said had both of them increasingly more angry, and by the time the first punches were thrown, they were livid.

"I despise when they edit out the conversations like that," Charles Xavier said softly. "What harm could it do, honestly, to let them be heard?"

"Depends on what they're saying," Quill said with a bitter edge that didn't quite sound like him until he seemed to check himself. "Could be unfit for kids to watch, the mouth Seven has."

Jubilee and Moira shared a glance, knowing there was some truth to that, but also sure that there was nothing that Steve could have done outside of what they'd seen to tweak Logan that badly.

"They have to be talking about Kate," Charles reasoned.

"And if they are, why edit it?" J. Jonah Jameson piped up with a deep frown as if he was annoyed by this turn of events. "Built up that whole thing for days. Be nice to have _some_ return on this drama if we're not going to get that finale."

"Likely because it doesn't speak to this love triangle they had going for so long," Charles said. "Though I'd love to know what triggered the re-route." He was looking toward Creed as he said it.

"Kids are fickle," Tony Masters said with a wave, leaned back in his seat with a glass of whiskey. "Can't be that hard to play up their angle. Clearly, it pissed off Seven enough to get him pounding."

As the fight wore on, parts of the tributes' conversation that had to have been from earlier in the fight were put over the action, revealing the boys comparing who was the worse person for their trouble as Rogers got Logan on the ground and was levering his claws toward his throat.

"Nice move for a _frail_ ," Stane said with an obvious glance Creed's way, more or less just annoyed at having been called out by Creed than actually rooting for Steve.

"Yeah, all he's gotta do is follow through now," Creed agreed without a bit of bias either way. "What's he waiting for anyhow?"

"Harder to kill your boy than it was to kill Twelve," Masters observed with a small, wry smile.

"Just want Five to get it over with," Creed said. "My boy's got nothing left."

Jubilee had to try hard not to throw something at Creed when, almost on cue, Logan managed to kick Steve away, and the two young men got back down to it, though markedly slower on both sides. It still looked like it was leaning more toward Steve finishing the job though, and the last bit of the battle was certainly scraping by, the advantage shifting one way then the other until Steve lost his shield and Logan didn't even try to play fair at the last few blows, not wasting his opportunity.

Still, when he seemed to pin Steve to the concrete with his claws through the taller boy's back … it was silent in the room filled with Capitolites and victors for all of about thirty seconds.

Then the roar started up outside the walls, the same roar of cheering that followed the end of every Games in the Capitol. Several of the stylists and escorts were on their feet joining in the celebration of the end — others were half shielding Peter Quill as the Five mentor had lost all of his usual spark.

Jubilee was in shock as she turned to Noh and just blurted out, "I'm so sorry."

"No, no," he said, clearly trying to compose himself for her sake as he finally lifted his head from her shoulder. "No ... you should celebrate. Join the parties downstairs. That's where everyone else will be."

"I don't … really feel much like doing that," she admitted.

"No?" He met her gaze for a moment, watching her and raking his gaze over her expression curiously. "He won. I thought you'd be relieved." There was the slightest tone of bitterness in his voice, but she knew it wasn't directed at her.

"I am. Really, I am … but what they did to him," she said very, very softly. "You didn't see it all."

He frowned the slightest bit, and without moving his head, she could see his gaze sweep the room, finding the ever-present cameras with a stylist's eye for detail.

She caught on quickly and just threw her arms around his neck in a hug to cover the pale look on her face. "I'll tell you a little later," she promised.

"The parties tonight make even the loudest of conversations hard to hear," he replied low in her ear. "I know from experience."

"After that then," she said in response. "But I _have to tell you._ "

"Alright," he replied slowly. "Later."

As the two shared their quiet words, all around them, the mentors, stylists, and escorts were in a flurry of movement, most of the Capitolites headed downstairs to join the parties, along with a few mentors like Sarkissian and others who simply hadn't been as invested as the rest.

Then there were the others who, like Jubilee, didn't seem to feel much like celebrating. Honey Lemon had thrown her arms around Quill's neck in what was probably meant as a consoling gesture, though he ended up more consoling her than anything else, and a few of Quill's friends from the victor pool hovered nearby. Even Groot, who was technically from Seven, was giving Quill his full attention.

Jubilee took one look at Quill and made her way over to Mary Jane, Five's stylist, and gave her a sad little look before she threw her arms around her and apologized, though MJ just had to smile at her.

"It's part of the job," MJ told her. "It's okay."

"It's hard for everyone the first year," said Alison Blaire on her way out the door with a little wave at Jubilee. "Don't read so much into it. It's not like _you_ were fighting MJ or something."

"You're such a tool," Jubilee said with a frown, gaining back some of her fire all at once.

Alison paused and gave Jubilee a bit of a glare. "Lighten up. It's just the Games."

"Ditzy blonde," Jubilee muttered before she turned her attention back to MJ. "Later?"

"Come find me at the party. I'll buy the drinks if you feel like that sort of thing," MJ promised.

"I guess I better try to go look presentable then, huh?"

"I can help with that," Noh said with a small smile. "If you promise to help me do the same."

"Please," Jubilee said with a breath of relief. "My favorite stylist." She looked at MJ quickly. "No offense."

"None taken," MJ said. "Good luck finding _privacy_ though," she added with a smirk. "You're on the Seven team. You're a hot commodity right now."

"Yay," Jubilee said, twirling one finger in the air. "Go team. Never thought it would be this … weird on the winning team." She gave MJ a final wave as she and Noh headed out to freshen up, the roar of the celebrations outside still ringing in their ears.

* * *

 _July 19_

 _Secure SHIELD facility_

* * *

"I know you wanted Rogers to win, but look at it this way - you'll have much more unfettered access to the kid down here," Fury said.

He and Agent Coulson walked together deeper into the recesses of SHIELD's underground facilities, past several retina scans, a fingerprint and DNA check, and at least three passcode-encrypted doors for which the password changed every three days, with armed guards at random checkpoints along the way that had no qualms about stopping even the director and putting him through the paces.

Two weeks' worth of Games, and behind those doors was the result of an entire year's worth of research into the potential tribute pool, careful planning, and millions of dollars of manpower and man hours. Already, some of the tributes who had died early on were in development, and the head of the department, Claire Temple, looked up from her work when the two men entered to rush over.

"Those last three are in rough shape from the preliminary reports I'm getting from the transport," she said with a frown. "And I'm still a little wary of testing out the process on Banner's head injury. We don't know that we can revive the brain as easily as the rest if we have to rebuild it. I can't guarantee he'll be the same even if we do manage it."

"I told you before, Ms. Temple," Fury replied. "If it _doesn't_ work, we can deal with it then. But if there's a chance it can work, we really could use Mr. Banner's creative mind."

"And I'm telling you it's his mind I'm most concerned for," she replied, shaking her head. "I'd like to try the process on Wilson first. Put Banner on ice until we can be sure we won't cause severe dissociation."

"If that's what it takes, do what you need to," Fury said after a long moment of thought.

She nodded and turned her attention for a moment to her assistants and called out the necessary instructions before she rearranged herself the slightest bit and looked over the director and Coulson. "Other than Banner's injuries, we should be able to save everyone on your list," she reported. "Unless you've changed anything, we should have the first few up and ready to be reintegrated into the land of the living by a week from now."

"No, the only change to my list is your addition of Wilson as a test monkey," Fury said dryly.

She smirked the slightest bit at that and nodded. "You have my objection to Romanoff on your record, right?"

"And I have my reasons to myself," he said as he reached over and tapped the clipboard in front of her. "So I'm _not_ going to repeat myself."

Claire just gave him a look for a moment but bit back what was probably another objection to his program — she had long ago given up on that. She let out a bit of a sniff and turned her attention to Coulson. "If you have anything specifically in mind, any specializations or specific programs for this new batch, you'll need to speak to Essex before he gets started reintegrating the first few."

"I'll keep that in mind, but as far as I'm concerned, it's time to get back on track," Fury replied before he gestured to yet another door for Coulson to follow him through, leaving Claire to continue her work prepping for the last few tributes' arrival.

Through that area, some of the harder cases were already being revitalized. Not every death in the Avenger Games was the same. Some, like Wagner, were easy enough. A simple stabbing was something they had long ago learned to fix. Others were far trickier.

There were cases like Potts, who would have to have limbs reattached if they had any hope of bringing her back. Thankfully, hers was an early death, and they already had her in a Genesis tube to monitor her, make sure her body didn't reject all the changes they'd made in such a short time — and taking readings to see if this particular project was even _possible_.

Others were simply mutilated and needed to be pieced back together long after the worst of the damage was done. Kasady had done a number on the little Munroe, not to mention the chunks missing from Barton or the lacerations that left Parker nearly unrecognizable.

It was likely Rogers and Bishop would end up here, too — the final few always did. Banner would go through here eventually, once Claire okay'ed him. But for now, the top scientific minds in Marvel were working away on Barton and Parker. The Tahiti process had improved in the past year, so they were hopeful, but it was still up in the air as to how much they _could_ fix.

"This is a bad time, gentlemen," Hank Pym said without really looking up from his adjustments to the equipment. "I have two Genesis tubes to prep and another two operations to set up for. I don't have time for _status reports_."

"Don't let us slow you down," Fury said. "We're just passing through. Wanted to see the progress for myself on my way to Essex. Finalize the order."

Pym waved a hand at them distractedly. "Come back when I've got Hank and Reed to help me when they're done with their soirees. This will go so much faster with extra hands that are capable."

"Shouldn't be too long for either of them," Fury said. "Now that the parties are going."

"Depends on who won - I haven't watched. Been too busy," Hank said, again with that same distracted expression as he tweaked some controls on the tube prepped for Parker.

"That's the other reason we're here," Fury replied easily. "Final tributes are on their way inbound now. Expect some pretty nasty damage on Rogers."

"You're trying to send me to an early grave. I saw the scans on the last few."

"Look at it this way, Pym," Fury replied. "If we do, at least we know how to get you back."

At that, Hank looked up at Fury with a dry look. "That's not funny."

But Fury just smirked the slightest bit and went back to looking over some of the reports for the incoming tributes. "Stab wounds, arrow holes. General disarray," Fury muttered. A lot of it was fixable, but with the push they wanted from this year, he was hoping for a return on the heavy investment in new equipment for Essex, Pym, and everyone else working on this project.

Hank just nodded distractedly, now working on Barton's Genesis tube and not really paying attention to Fury. "Plenty of stab wounds this year. What, one of the kids get a trident? The three-pronged pattern is pretty repetitive."

"He made a set of claws out of rebar. Strapped them to his arms," Fury replied. "Did a good job on found weaponry, really."

"Do me a favor and tell me that one's not coming through here. I don't need another case where Essex is lecturing me on padded rooms and found weapons."

"No, Seven won this year," Fury said with a little smirk. "Named Howlett."

"Seven?" Hank's head came up and he actually gave Fury his attention before he just let out a breath. "Been a while since I heard that name. Condolences to the kid. Stuck with Creed."

"I think he can handle Creed just fine," Fury admitted. "They seem to have a regular feud brewing up. Broke Creed's nose before the Games started."

"Good for him." Hank was smirking the slightest bit as he nodded. "Someone ought to give it back to him. He was a nightmare my year. Trying to make a _mark_ with his first mentee. Not that Jan was having any of it — I think she lived in my room for most of our time there." He shook his head and settled his shoulders before he waved them toward the door. "Essex should still be in his office — he's drooling over the latest files from the final kids."

The two men left Pym to his work and crossed the threshold into Essex's playground, where the strange scientist was indeed pouring over a handful of files with a delighted expression on his face.

"You've really done the thing properly this year, director," he all but crowed as he didn't even look up from his files. "This level of manipulation in the Games… Mojo was never this _creative_."

"We got the job done," Fury said with no tone of amusement in his voice.

"With you being the director of Games this year, we'll have to deviate from our normal pattern," Essex said as if he hadn't paid Fury the least bit of attention. "They'll associate you with what was done in the Games, and I need them to _trust_ me. We'll need to push back your usual introductions until they're more stable."

"How long until the first one is ready to start working?" Fury asked. "I think I'd like to make sure that Xavier is part of the process this time out. Hopefully add a little more stability to them."

Essex looked thoroughly disdainful at the suggestion as he finally looked up to Fury. "Let him work your precious victor and leave the rest to me. If this is what the fallen are like," he said, gesturing at the files, "I imagine he has his work cut out for him." He gave Fury a silky smile. "Or do you doubt my ability to get results?"

"I'm sure you can get the job done, but if the past stability of these ex-tributes is any indicator, you need help."

Essex made a face. "Silver Fox was not _my_ mess. I can't fix what is physically damaged, and that, director, was a botched Tahiti operation if ever I saw one, not to mention the trauma endured before the Games, as we now know."

"In case you're confused, this is not up for discussion," Fury said frankly.

For a moment, Essex's eyes flashed before he let out the slightest of sighs. "I expect you'll be able to at least integrate Wagner and Danvers within the week. No stability issues there, and I understand the operations took no time at all. From there, it's only a matter of getting their physical strength back, but that's not my department."

"Thank you, Dr. Essex," Fury said with a little nod. "The last group should be here any minute."

"Then you're really just taking up space, aren't you?"

"I was planning on watching them come in," Fury said shortly.

"I had no idea you were sentimental." Essex tipped his head the slightest bit, something gleaming in his gaze. "You've never been this interested before. Or is it just that there are so many more in the program this year? Or perhaps you're interested in our strides in fixing even the worst cases?"

"Why don't you do your job and we'll keep out of your way while you do," Fury said.

"My dear director, that's what I was doing when you came in."

The two SHIELD men shared a glance before they left Essex' office, though they weren't far down the hall when Coulson shook his head. "If I shoot him, you'll demote me, won't you?"

"Only if you do it in front of witnesses," Fury replied flatly.

Coulson just shook his head again and let out a sigh. "Just looking forward to when those tributes are on my secondary team and not in his playground. I think he enjoys it a little too much, and it's always a rocky transition to the way I run things."

"Which is why I'm bringing in Xavier," Fury said as they stepped through the door that led to the hangar. "I think Essex has had too much leeway over the years."

"No arguments there," Coulson agreed as they watched the last of the hovercrafts approaching with the final three tributes. The last fights had taken place in a close enough time frame that the transport had them all together, though Coulson noted the cryogenics team on standby for Banner as opposed to the usual procedure for the other two.

Incidentally, it was Banner that was offloaded first, and the cryo team moved quickly to clean him up and decontaminate him before they could start their process up. They kept to a far removed corner of the hangar to avoid exposure to anyone else, and even at that, they were switching out workers every ten minutes.

The other two were just as dirty and bloodied, but the focus was on getting them clean for surgery, with Claire Temple arriving with her usual lack of fanfare as she and her team looked over the fallen tributes. It was a little jarring to hear her rattling off their litany of injuries.

"Collapsed lung, massive internal organ damage," she was calling out to the nurses as she looked over Bishop while Cecilia Reyes was with Rogers. "Broken ribs, shattered knee, concussion…"

"Multiple stab wounds, severed cardial artery, not to mention the anterior spinal artery - those lungs need cleaning up too," Reyes called out. "And a concussion on this one as well."

"Not surprised," Claire replied. "Pretty sure that's going to be the case for most of them."

The two doctors continued their back and forth, already discussing which injuries — and which tribute — to start on first as Fury and Coulson watched the last two tributes from this year's Games being wheeled down the hall.

"The things we do to children in the name of revolution," Coulson said softly, almost under his breath.

"At least we're bringing them back," Fury said in response, every bit as quiet. "Otherwise they'd just be gone."

Coulson raised an eyebrow at Fury but didn't fall back into their long tired-out argument. "The president will want to know your plans for next year. Quarter Quell."

"Yes he will," Fury agreed, nodding his head and looking more and more thoughtful. "And it's not a conversation I'm looking forward to."

"You know what you're going to tell him? I know Hill had her own ideas."

"She had some ideas, but after this year's Games, I'm not real excited about more head games," Fury said.

"You make that decision before or after Essex nearly fainted over your files?" Coulson asked with a smirk.

"Believe it or not, before, he just cemented it," Fury admitted. "All that we did is going to make it hard to deal with the one that lived through it, let alone the rest of them."

"So, you're going more for desperation from the tributes than punishment for the victors," Coulson surmised.

"In most cases, yes," Fury agreed.

"Let's just hope Thanos agrees. I understand he wasn't too pleased with the

heroics this year. That should help at least throw alliances off balance."

"We can hope," he said as the two of them headed back the way they'd come - more or less. The Games were over this year, but for the two of them, it just meant the _real_ work was only beginning.


	2. The New Rules of the Game

**Chapter Two: The New Rules of the Game**

* * *

 _July 26_

 _Party in the Plaza outside of the Capitol training building_

* * *

The parties in the Capitol always stretched on for days, and Noh had been right — Jubilee was in high demand. _Anyone_ on Seven's team was in high demand, of course, and it was almost dizzying being passed from one high-powered Capitol politician or celebrity to the next. The questions were always the same: How did it feel? Was she proud? What were her plans for the interview the next night?

Just one more night — that was what the doctors had said — and then she'd have her tribute, no her victor, back. It had taken a while to patch Logan back up and to get him looking "presentable," and she hadn't been able to see him in all that time. The only people she had seen, really, were partygoers and well-wishers and lots and lots of cameras.

That was the most frustrating part — the cameras were everywhere. She felt like she hadn't had a moment to herself since Logan won, and she was _dying_ to find somewhere quiet. She loved a party as much as the next girl, and the dancing was fun, but there were _things_ that needed clearing up.

"Excuse me, Miss Lee, but I was wondering if you might answer the same questions over and over again ad nauseum?" said a familiar voice over her shoulder, and she had to laugh when she turned to see Noh there with a little smirk on his face.

"Only if I'm being threatened otherwise by poor company," she replied as she turned his way, before she simply had to throw her arms around Noh's neck.

He beamed and returned the hug. "You are a hard woman to get ahold of these days," he teased as he didn't let her back down all the way and set her on his toes.

"Really and truly not my fault, though I would love to take credit sometimes. And I've been wanting to chat with you."

"Well, I think if we look like we are wrapped up in a dance, I might be able to steal you away from your adoring fans," he teased, still with her standing on his feet as he moved them both through the dance steps.

"It has to be a slow one," she said with a tiny smile. "So I can keep my pivotal role as your amazing necklace."

"Any excuse will do for you," he teased. "Though it's the most dashing necklace I've ever worn."

She had to laugh at that, though the smile fell just a bit as she glanced around the room. "Just please remember everything that you've taught me about keeping your temper to yourself and keeping your smile in place."

He frowned the slightest bit at that and tipped his head down to catch her gaze a little better, one eyebrow raised before he did just as she said, pulling her into a dance with a wide and practiced smile. "You act as though I haven't been doing precisely that for days now," he said. "They have been replaying my tribute's final moments for days in preparation for the interviews."

"Oh, I know. It's been terrible. But I need to tell you something about that …" she tried to hide her face rather than fake a smile. "No one knows but me and the creeps in charge."

"That," he said as he tucked his face in her hair for a moment so he could whisper in her ear, "is quite the secret."

"But I need you to know _everything_ before the interviews."

"Alright. Tell me your secret, Jubilee, and then let's find somewhere far from here for a more private dance," he murmured, still with his face half in her hair as they simply rotated very slowly in the middle of the dance floor, looking very much the part of an involved couple instead of like they were having a serious conversation.

She told him everything that she had overheard Creed saying when they made the messages- and everything that was cut. Every confession to his crimes and every wicked promise he made against Kate. And as she told him, she got more and more upset, though she kept it under control even as he grew more tense along with her.

When finally she had told him everything, he was very still, very quiet. It took him some time before he trusted himself to speak, and when he did, he asked, simply, "My Jubilee, I don't suppose you know where the victors are holding their celebrations tonight?"

"I've been trying to avoid them, to be honest." She looked momentarily miserable at the admission. "I don't think the others knew."

"I should _hope_ not," Noh said, sounding incredibly frazzled and only half keeping his anger in check before he took in a deep breath, obviously glad for the excuse to hide his face as they spun to the slow love ballad being played. "Jubilee, how could they allow such a thing?"

"I don't know," she said softly.

"He should be stripped of his titles. His money, his power - made to walk the streets like a beggar if they refuse to jail him for this… this…" Noh let out a derisive noise. "He walks free in the Capitol, and my Kate is _dead_."

"I was so afraid it was going to be her and Logan at the end," she admitted, holding back tears.

"We all thought it would be," he said softly before he just pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her forehead. "I am so sorry, Jubilee," he said, though there was an edge to his voice.

"No, I am. Logan wouldn't have let him touch her. Even if he tore himself apart after. I know it."

He nodded quietly, still reeling from the revelation. "No one knew… they are going to interview him tomorrow, and no one will ever know…" He took a breath. "I believe Black Bolt mentioned something with the victors in the upper levels, if I read his signs correctly. If you will excuse me, Jubilee, I think I need a walk," he said, taking a slight step back as he kissed her hand to end their dance. He was smiling again, but it was definitely not reaching his eyes.

"I hope to see you later," she said. "I think I need ice cream tonight."

"Naturally. Save a dance for me."

With that, the blue-skinned stylist swept off, a practiced smile on his face the entire way through several other parties going on throughout the Capitol. He knew the victors would be spread out, in their own little groups, and he spotted a few as he went. The so-called Fantastic Four were always together — this time clustered around a fountain trading laughter with some politicians — and of course Odin had somehow managed to make himself fairly scarce even as so many were clamoring to watch his grief over losing a large chunk of his family members to the Games.

He kept his eye out for a larger crowd. As the new champion's mentor, Creed would have admirers, even more than usual, and if there was one thing that man was, it was vain.

When Noh finally found him, clearly enjoying the attention and adulation, he really didn't have a plan. All he had was a feeling of deep and burning anger. And all his advice to Jubilee, every time he'd told her to be careful of the cameras… it all evaporated in an instant as he stalked over to the seven-foot monster.

His usual eloquence was gone. He didn't have any words for this man. And in an instant, he had thrown a punch to the man's jaw as hard as he could, and there was a crunching sound — but it was not from Creed but from Noh's own hand. Though, to his satisfaction, when Creed turned his head, Noh saw that he had at least broken a few teeth for his trouble, even if he was nearly gasping over his definitely broken hand - and it was hard to miss the little whoop Peter Quill let out.

Creed turned his way with a thunderous look on his face and shouted, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" before the next thing Noh knew, he was on the floor, pinned underneath a Sentinel.

It took him a full five seconds to even realize he was being arrested. His professional reputation would _never_ recover — what _had_ he been thinking?

They had him out of the room in seconds, with mutters about "drunk stylists" following them the entire way until they hit the hallways and he realized about the same time his feet left the ground that he might have maybe lost his temper a bit.

The sound of clicking heels echoed the hall in a quick tempo behind them, and Noh barely got to take a peek over his shoulder to see Black Bolt and Bobbi Morse right behind him looking shocked and a bit nervous. The Sentinels tried to stop the two victors from joining them in the elevator, but Bobbi handled it with professionalism that Noh was rather pleased to see outside of the stylists' circle.

"He's in Boltagon's district team," Bobbi said brusquely. "And I'm translating for Blackagar. He has a right to know what's going on with his team. Especially this close to the interviews."

It was hard to argue with that kind of logic, so one of the Sentinels gave a grunt that might have been approval as the elevator doors closed and Noh was just starting to look properly ashamed of himself. He had been a stylist for four years and never lost his temper like _that_!

Finally, the whole miserable procession ended as the now-handcuffed stylist found himself in front of none other than Phil Coulson. Which… meant he was in serious trouble, he knew.

Still, he couldn't quite stop himself from saying, "I am only sorry I didn't wait until we were in a more private setting" as soon as he sat down, though he had no idea what had possessed him to do that.

The stoic agent excused the two Sentinels as the victors came to stand on either side of Noh. "What am I missing here?" Coulson asked as soon as the door had closed. "What in the world possessed one of our most popular stylists to lose his mind and attack — admittedly — our nastiest victor?"

"If you do not know, then _you_ have no knowledge of the unedited version of his remarks, and I envy you," Noh said, figuring since he was getting arrested there was no need for parlor tricks and politics.

Coulson didn't give away anything as he just watched the young man for a moment. "And how do you know about it? I'm guessing your friend covering Seven filled you in?"

"That's not important," Noh said, moving to wave his hand before he remembered that he was still cuffed. "What is important is what he — you can't expect him to go unpunished!"

"What's important is that you can't go running around taking matters into your own hands by hitting victors," Coulson countered. "He will be punished. I just can't speak as to how. Unfortunately, that isn't my call."

"If the rest of Marvel knew — how can _you_ know and not be furious?" Noh had completely abandoned his composure and was just fuming openly by then.

"Who said I wasn't furious?" Coulson challenged. "Maybe it's just that I know the right time and place to attack someone as high profile as that is _not_ at the height of one of the celebrations going on right now."

Noh held Coulson's gaze for a moment as the man's words started to sink in, and he was half holding his breath as well. "I hadn't intended to hit him," he admitted at last, his shoulders slumping as he lost a lot of his heat. "I lost my temper. For that I apologize — it's not at all like me."

"Which is why I'm going to have you take a breathalyzer before I decide how best to handle this situation." He took just a moment to find the device and handed it across the desk — holding it out in front of Noh. "Whatever this reading is — it will determine if you're officially inebriated and, therefore, not within your full facilities. Which, I sincerely hope is the case for your sake."

"I'm afraid I'm entirely so—"

Before he could finish speaking, Bobbi picked the breathalyzer up from Coulson and simply took it herself before she handed it to Noh. "Give your test to Agent Coulson please," she said with an encouraging look.

He stared at her for a moment before, wordlessly, he followed her instructions, looking entirely confused by this turn of events.

Coulson pulled a face at the numbers on the screen and shook his head. "Noh-Varr, you really need to be more careful at these kinds of parties. I think maybe it would be best if you just stayed to your room outside of required appearances and did not touch another drop of liquor until after the _victory tour_ is over."

"A pledge of sobriety," Noh said with one eyebrow raised, now struggling _not_ to smile as opposed to painting one on.

"Consider it probation," Coulson clarified. "Any more outbursts of any kind and there won't be anything I can do to help you."

"Believe me, Agent Coulson, I have no desire to break my other hand. I need them for my work," Noh said honestly.

"Then be quick to get that taken care of. I'm sure the rumor mill will be going top speed by now. To have you show up tomorrow at the interviews battered and bruised will only make them look more true."

Noh winced as he realized something important. "Oh, please tell me the rumors are confined only to me and my actions — alone. Jubilee has been having such a night—"

"I'm sure if you hurry, she'll be able to find you in your room before her party is over," Coulson said. "She's going to need her support system over the next week or so, as young as she is and seeing as this is her first go-around."

"Yes," Noh had to nod his agreement. He winced and rubbed his hand the slightest before he let out a long breath. "Thank you. I promise — there won't be another outburst. I should have used better judgement."

"Or better follow-through," Bobbi said under her breath. "Don't keep your thumb in the middle next time." She gave him a little smirk for just an instant before returning her gaze to Coulson.

"I'll take that into consideration should the need arise," he half-whispered back, though he was watching Black Bolt sign to Coulson. He had been Twelve's stylist long enough to know some of the signs, something about seeing and then the sign for Creed.

"I really shouldn't," Coulson said his way. "But honestly, maybe you should see it. Just so you can help me assess the threat level and how to deal with him."

This time, there was no mistaking the sign for Noh or the little smirk on Black Bolt's face.

"Yes, he had it right," Coulson said. "Though a truck might have been more effective."

Black Bolt let out a breath of a laugh and nodded before he moved to help Noh to his feet and frown over his hand for a moment, though Noh was grateful he didn't make any further comment to Coulson in that regard. He was embarrassed enough as it was.

The two victors escorted the young stylist to a medical center close by, and for the most part, Noh remained silent, still mortified with his own behavior, as Black Bolt and Bobbi talked in rapid-fire sign language back and forth about something he couldn't keep up with. He just tried very hard to ignore the medics as they complained about "drunk underage stylists" and "always someone every year" and just followed both of the victors back to where the party was once he'd been seen to.

In the elevator on the way back up, though, Bobbi was clearly trying not to smile, and she finally turned to Noh and had to ask, "So. Are you going to tell me what that was all about, or do I have to torture it out of you?"

He looked alarmed for a moment. "Please don't," he said. "I've had enough of that for one day, thank you."

Black Bolt tapped her arm with the back of his hand and gave her a _look_ that clearly read 'knock it off.'

"You need to tell us everything before your girlfriend shows up," Bobbi directed in a whisper over his shoulder, this time a bit more serious.

"She is not my girlfriend. That would be improper between stylists. Please don't spread that rumor — we're simply close friends and have been for years," Noh said in the tired tone of someone who had said it a thousand times before he just shook his head and looked them both over.

He launched into a retelling of everything Jubilee had told him, the words tumbling out as quickly as he could make them as he just wanted to get it _out_. The two of them wore matching grim expressions, though their surprise was tempered slightly, and he couldn't help but wonder just how much they had already suspected on their own, or exactly how jaded the victors actually were.

"We'll make sure he's kept away from... well. Everyone," Bobbi assured him before she leaned forward just a bit. "If you're smart, you won't let Jubilee be alone with Creed at all."

"Of course not," he said as if the idea was horrifying in and of itself.

"We'll help keep an eye on her new victor," she promised. "And thank you for telling us."

"Thank you for helping me," he returned with an earnest smile. "You needn't have taken that test for me, so thank you."

"I didn't take any test for you," Bobbi said wide-eyed as the elevator doors opened. "You are _drunk_ , Noh-Varr. It's shameful for a man in your position."

For just a moment, he grinned her way before he halfway leaned on her. "I'm not _that_ drunk," he protested, loudly, and by the time he did get back to his room, Bobbi and Black Bolt had returned to their parties, well-secure in the rumor that the popular stylist had simply had more than he could handle.

But it wasn't long before Jubilee stormed her way into his suite with a wide-eyed expression on her face. "You … there is no way you got drunk that fast. You were perfectly sober when I saw you. _What the heck happened?_ "

"I have no idea," he said, looking up quickly when he saw her as he just shook his head, still a bit in shock over the whole thing himself. "I simply lost myself."

"Seriously," she said as she just shook her head slowly at him, visibly deflating on seeing that he was alright. "I'm staying the night. So … you're going to need to make room."

He just slowly started to grin at her as he scooted over and smiled into her shoulder as she pulled him into a proper snuggle. "I am on probation," he told her honestly once they were tucked in. "I cannot attend the parties that are not _required_ for my position — which I am lucky to still have, much less my status as a free man — and please, do not offer me a drink until the Victory Tour. I've taken a pledge of sobriety, apparently."

"You can't leave me here alone with these creeps," she said as she curled up with him, her feet under herself.

"No, I won't, I promise," he said quickly. "Anything I am allowed to attend, I will — and when I cannot be there at the events themselves, I'll simply have to make sure you have someplace to come when you're finished dazzling the world."

"This is a good plan," she said with a nod, though he didn't see the little frown she was now wearing. "Wish me luck — tomorrow is going to suck. Moira's out for the night. Doreen is planning on staying with Honey Lemon. No way am I going to that suite alone with that monster..."

"Well, at least for the interviews, I'll be there." He leaned forward with a sparkle in his eye. "And for you, at least, I don't mind if you break my hand again. It's yours to hold if you need it."

"If only they let all the prettiest people sit together," she said with an almost wistful sigh. "But I'll actually have to sit next to that creep for part of it."

"A shameful aesthetic decision, really."

She nodded her head thoughtfully. "If it makes you feel better, Creed is apparently on probation too," Jubes informed him. "He's been warned against starting anything."

He looked a bit surprised and then, honestly, relieved — at least slightly. "That … is a beginning, at least."

A long stretch of silence followed before Jubilee let out a sigh and just sat bolt upright. "Okay. I hope you have a tee-shirt or something for me, because as fabulous as this dress is, it's not going to be worth looking at by morning if I sleep in it."

He just chuckled at that as he watched her stand up and cross the room. "You know where my shirts are. Pick what you like."

* * *

 _July 27_

 _Somewhere far below the Capitol_

* * *

Not everything came back at once for the young man lying in the hospital bed hidden away from prying eyes. What did come to him was little snippets of his own senses. His hearing — as he heard the insistent beep of machinery almost through a haze. His sense of touch was slowly coming back as well, his own limbs heavy against something soft. When his sight returned, even with his eyes closed, it was like slowly turning up the brightness on a bulb. Wherever he was, it was well-lit, and when he did try to open his eyes, he only shut them again at how _white_ everything was. It hurt to look at.

He still felt hazy as he tried experimentally to move, but he found that everything felt new, as if he had never used his own muscles before. He had to concentrate just to pick up his hand, and so for the moment, he contented himself with just lying there, waiting for everything to come back. The hearing was the fastest, the insistent beeping sounding like it was getting closer, though he knew it was just that he could hear it better, louder.

He didn't know _why_ there was such a steady beeping sound in Heaven, but he thought that must be where he was. It was too bright to look at, and wasn't that how Heaven was described? Too beautiful for the eyes of man?

And besides, he was sure he'd died in the Games. That much he did remember, though much of his mind was still a bit clouded in the same fog that slowed his senses. But he did remember the feeling of claws in his chest, the ground against his back as he fell — he remembered that much clearly.

It took him some time to remember how to use his limbs, but then, he had all eternity for this, so he wasn't too worried or anxious. Perhaps he was just getting used to being a spirit, and so he simply let it come to him, little movements a victory apiece.

Though — when he finally did try to open his eyes again, this time able to shield them against the light with one hand he had managed to regain control of, he was surprised to find that this was nothing like the pearly white gates he had always envisioned. It seemed more like a hospital room, pristine and white and entirely empty.

Kurt couldn't help but frown the slightest bit as he squinted and shifted to try and take in his surroundings a little better. This wasn't right. Something was off — this … this was not what he'd been expecting at _all_.

He pushed himself up a bit, sitting against the pillows on what he now realized was a hospital bed, straining to understand. He had _died_ , hadn't he? So what was this place? Surely there was no reason to have hospitals in Heaven...

"Welcome back," a kind voice said — warm and rich as he drew Kurt's attention his way. "I didn't want to leave you alone for too long with nothing but your thoughts."

It was an honest relief to see someone else enter the hospital room so that Kurt was no longer alone, though stranger still was the fact that it was Charles Xavier, the mentor from Ten. Kurt watched almost warily as he realized the famed victor was still wheelchair-bound. So this couldn't be the afterlife — not when such things were supposed to be limited only to earthly life.

"Where am I?" he asked at last, his voice much softer than he'd meant it to be as even his vocal chords seemed to feel new and unused.

"The Triskellion," he replied gently. "The doctors here have found ways to perform miracles."

"Then ... I didn't die," Kurt said, frowning, trying to understand, "but came close."

"I'm afraid you did, Mr. Wagner," Charles replied. "But I'm not the best person to explain the science behind it, I'm sad to say." He paused and looked over Kurt for a moment with a kind smile. "How do you feel?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Kurt had to admit as he continued to stretch his limbs experimentally. "Like a stranger in my own body, I suppose."

"That is very likely as good of a description as anyone could devise."

Kurt couldn't help but smile the slightest bit before he just shook his head. "I suppose it's the truth. If I died, my soul would have left — coming back must feel strange."

"Then perhaps it's best you were asleep when it happened," Charles said. He gestured toward the door to the room with a tip of his head. "When you feel ready, I'd like to take you to your new room. It's a bit less clinical than this place."

Kurt frowned Charles' way for a moment. "My new room," he repeated slowly before he just shook his head. "For how long?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that question," Charles replied honestly. "You've been brought back for a purpose, as I'm sure you've guessed."

"I was always told that everything happens for a reason," Kurt said with that same thoughtful frown.

"I'm not sure that's always the case," Charles said gently. "But in _this_ case, it's the truth."

Kurt still looked thoughtful as he continued to stretch experimentally, pulling his legs over the side of the bed as he looked a little warily at the tile floor. Walking could be a challenge, the way he was feeling. Still, he didn't want to _stay_ where he was, and when his bare feet hit the cold floor, he was surprised at how sturdy he felt — the haze was wearing off fast.

"Why bring _me_ back? What about the others? Who — who won?" Kurt couldn't decide on just the one question, it seemed, not with so many of them vying for his attention at once.

"Many of the others _are_ being brought back," Charles assured him. "And all of you for the same purpose: to put an end to the horrors of the Games and help us to overthrow the president and his regime."

Kurt stared at Charles openly, stunned into silence for some time. "You can't expect… what can _we_ possibly… _why_?" he managed at last.

"You're uniquely qualified in that Thanos and his followers believe you to be dead," Charles said. "That on its own is incredibly useful. But, for everything else, you will be trained. As for the why?" He let out a heavy sigh. "To stop all these children from having to die for entertainment."

"Who else is here?" Kurt asked suddenly. "You said others - who else died for _entertainment_?"

"A few from previous Games," Charles said. "In fact, there is a young lady — who will do all she can to answer your questions and show you around — waiting for us just down the hall. From your Games, the only other one up and about is the young lady from District Five."

The look of disappointment was clear on Kurt's face and Charles was quick to add, "So far."

Kurt nodded, the frown settling around the corners of his mouth as he considered all this new information. "Who won?" he asked softly.

Charles' smile slipped from his eyes, though it remained in place as he let out a little breath. "Your friend, Logan. He's supposed to wake up sometime today."

A rush of emotions swelled through Kurt, and he wasn't sure which to hold on to as they all seemed to flicker through at once. Relief — that it was his friend. Sorrow — for his friends who had died too. And concern — because he could see the look on Charles' face and knew something had happened. But then, it was the Games. No one survived unscathed. And considering his last memory of Logan…

"Is he — _will_ he be alright?" Kurt asked at last.

"I don't know yet," Charles admitted. "No one has been allowed to see him."

"I want to — let me see him," Kurt said, the words out of his mouth before he'd entirely thought them through. "Please."

"Kurt, that's impossible."

"He's my friend. He needs me," Kurt insisted. "He can't — if he knew I was alive…"

"If it were up to me, you'd be there when he wakes up — if he hasn't already." Charles looked truly saddened. "But it's not my choice. The most I can do is tell you that you can watch the interview tonight."

Kurt just looked a bit thunderous for a moment. "If you can bring me back from the dead, surely you can arrange _something_."

Charles smiled at that. "Perhaps. But certainly not while the spotlight is on him right now."

"That won't last long," Kurt said, almost smiling in spite of the situation. "He hates being the center of attention."

"You'd be surprised at how long it can last," Charles replied. "Whether he hates it or not is of no concern to those around him right now."

"Then we're just as trapped now as we were days ago in the arena," Kurt said, any spark of a smile gone in an instant at the thought.

"For now, I'm afraid so." Charles watched him for a few moments. "I'll see him later, and I will try to assess him up close as to how he's doing."

"Please, if there's anything I can do, even from here…" Kurt turned toward Charles with a perfectly open expression — he hated not being able to _do_ something.

"For now, all you can do is get stronger," Charles replied as he turned his head toward the door. "And say hello to your tour guide. It seems she got a bit impatient waiting."

Kurt turned his attention to the short, skinny blonde girl in the doorway who was leaned against the frame with a little cocky smile and a wave. She looked to be his age, or maybe a little younger, but he didn't quite recognize her. When she saw him look her way, she just broke into an even wider smile and all but skipped over to him.

"I'm Cassie, by the way. Cassie Lang," she said as she held her hand out to him. "Nice to meet you in person — we get to watch the Games a bit down here when we're not too busy, so I already sort of feel like I know you. Which I know — sorry. I totally don't. But anyway, welcome to the Tahiti program."

Kurt was a bit surprised by all she had to say at once, and with his eyebrows raised, he extended his hand to her. "Kurt Wagner. I'm sorry — what is the Tahiti program?"

" _That_ ," Cassie said as she shook his hand and then leaned forward with both eyebrows raised, "is the question of the day, Kurt. I guess Charles told you it's my job to show you around, right?"

He nodded and just watched her as she kept going.

"Well, I'll try not to overwhelm you, but if you need to sit down, don't feel bad — I did too. A _lot_. And so did Carol — you'll meet her later; I don't think you really knew her from this year." She nodded at him reassuringly. "Oh! And the breaks aren't just because it takes a while to get used to walking again. There's a lot to take in, so just ... stop me if I go to fast." With a bright smile, she just gestured toward the door for Kurt to follow her, and again, he just had to … watch her bounce ahead of him. She seemed to be brimming with energy.

"So," she said, walking backwards so she could face him as they made their way down the halls, "this is the medical wing, which you will totally see plenty of, I'm sorry in advance. My first time out, I broke my arm, so just get used to the idea. But our usual doctor, Claire, is really nice, and so's Cecilia, so don't worry _too_ much."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said almost airly as he looked around the halls, trying to peek into every door they passed.

She followed his gaze and looked almost sympathetic for a moment. "If you're looking for the others, they don't do the life-bringing stuff on this level. It's top secret stuff. Only Hank has been down there out of all of us."

"Do you know who they're bringing back?" Kurt asked.

Her ever-present smile slipped. "Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "They don't tell us in case something goes wrong — you know, so we don't get our hopes up? And so we don't fight them over who they decided to bring back and who stays, well, dead."

His shoulders slumped a bit, but he nodded his head in understanding. It made perfect sense that for something on this scale, they wouldn't want to get hopes up, even if it was disappointing to hear.

"But I'm sure you'll get along with whoever they bring back. This year, there should be way more than other years. Hank was telling me they've got the process _way_ better streamlined than when _I_ went through it," she said as she continued to guide him down the hall. "There were a lot more tubes and gross stuff when _I_ came back, and only me and Mike were brought back from that year. Another two next year… but _this_ year? This year, Hank said there could be much more! Apparently, he and Reed and the other Hank figured out something. I don't know — I'm trying to learn about it. Hank says I've got a good mind for engineering, but the medical stuff goes over my head. I'm more electrical engineering and nanotech — it's _fascinating_."

"So, if you excel in engineering, would they allow you to do that instead of fight?" Kurt asked.

She frowned and scrunched up her face for a moment. "Probably," she said. "Right now, I'm just studying it in between other things they've got me doing, but I'm still learning the basics, so I'm not useful enough at it yet, I guess. Being from the outer districts, you know — I'm a little behind in the whole education department. Algebra was _horrible_ ," she said, pulling a face. "But Hank was really helpful." She paused. "Well…. his wife was more patient with me, but he was good at making sure I had all the books I needed. Jan did the actual work of helping me _read_ it all."

"And where was it that you called home before, Cassie? Since, I am assuming that this will be home for quite some time," Kurt asked, looking a bit irritated at the thought.

"District Twelve," Cassie said, and for a second, she looked almost homesick. "Don't get me wrong, I'm really grateful to be here and to get to learn — I mean, no _way_ would I be allowed to study engineering back home, but… I had friends there, you know?"

"I do," he said with a nod. "I had a sister and brother … a few close friends."

"Well, they keep saying we'll get to go home once the regime is gone," Cassie said, a lot more subdued than before. But she shook her head hard and just tried to move on. " _Any_ way, down this way, you'll find our training facilities and gym. And if you're wondering why they're so close to the medical wing, the answer is yes. Exactly the reason you're thinking."

Kurt had to smirk at that. It wasn't comforting, but the way she handled it was at least refreshingly honest and open.

The training area was surprisingly extensive and covered not just the gym and areas for sparring but a workshop for the mechanically-minded, a shooting range, even a pool, which Cassie was sure to point out to him with a wide smile.

"It's _supposed_ to be for training for underwater missions, but since some of us didn't even know _how_ to swim, they had to do that first and, well, I'm not saying I've asked Luke to help me sneak in here at night, but I totally did that," Cassie told him with a little twinkle in her eyes. "You're totally welcome to join. Honestly, it'll be nice to have someone close to my age. Everyone else here is at _least_ eighteen." She shook her head and leaned forward a bit. "The only reason they brought me back is they wanted to make sure the process worked on younger as well as older tributes, and seeing as I had only just turned twelve when I was Reaped, I guess I was the perfect fit to test if it worked. And it did! So - here I am!" She threw her arms out and spun in a bit of a circle.

He watched her for a moment with a small smile at her antics, but he couldn't help but shake his head at what he was hearing. "How many others are there, besides those from my year?"

She let out a long sigh. "Not very many," she admitted. "Just six, and Mike and Luke are almost _always_ out on a mission, so we don't see them much. And, really, there's only five of us, because no one's heard from the girl they woke up last year in a while after she went a little… nuts. The process… well. I don't really know all the psychology behind it, but Hank was mad at Dr. Essex for a _long_ time. They still blame each other for that catastrophe."

"I take it you're close to Hank?" he asked.

But she just laughed. "Hank doesn't _do_ close, especially not to someone as young as me," she said, waving her hand. "I just spend a lot of time in his lab learning, so it's about as close to socializing as either of us get, I guess. I'm close to Jan, though — that's his wife. I bet you'd like her. They got married, like, right after they woke up, I guess because dying puts a new perspective on things? She's really good at reminding Hank to, you know, be a human being every once in a while."

"So it's just the five of you? The three in the lab and the two boys out fighting?"

Cassie let out a long sigh and nodded. "Yeah, but this year there will be more. I guess the last few Games or so have been trial runs? Hank and Jan the year before me, and then me and Mike and Luke…" She trailed off and just shrugged up to her ears. "This year, there will be more people to help out with the fighting, which'll be good for Mike, because, well — you'll see. He's been stretched pretty thin. Him and Luke both, but Mike's the one that got hurt." But she just shrugged off his questioning look at that and bounced along to continue the tour.

As they spoke, the two of them left the training facilities, past a few briefing rooms, and went down another long hallway into a new area. "And this is where we all stay," Cassie explained. She pointed to a pair of double doors. "There's a cafeteria there, and to the left are the girls' quarters, which is just me and the girl they woke up this year, Carol. But Jan did her tour, so I can't really tell you much about her except that they want her to be a pilot, so we probably won't see her much outside of flying missions and, you know, mealtimes and stuff."

Cassie let out a sigh and shook her head before she went on. "And to the left are the boys' quarters. And if you keep going down this hall, there's a few offices you'll need to know about. Charles keeps an office here for if he's needed, but mostly Dr. Essex handles the Tahiti program and Charles stays with the victors." Cassie let out a bit of a shudder as she glanced at Kurt. "Dr. Essex is creepy, by the way. It's like he can read your mind and know exactly what to pick at. But he's supposed to be a world-class doctor, so… I don't know. He's good at … the medical stuff, I _guess_."

"Is he one of the doctors that brought us back to life?" Kurt asked curiously, but Cassie just pulled a worse face at that.

"Well, yeah, but that's not his main job. He's… well, he _says_ his job is reintegrating people into their second lives, but really, he's in charge of making sure we all do what we're supposed to do and don't screw up all the plans that the higher-ups have for us." She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "Actually, he kinda freaks me out. But he must be good, or Agent Coulson wouldn't let him in, so… he's just... weird. You'll have to talk with him later, but Charles got them to put _that_ fun stuff off until after we can watch the interviews."

"Why? Why wait? Let's get the ball rolling _now_ so we can overthrow the bad guys and get home," Kurt said with a little frown.

"There's, like, five of us. And you and Carol don't really count because you'll exhaust yourself just from walking around today," Cassie pointed out. "I don't know. I asked Dr. Essex what the holdup was, and he told me 'don't look beyond yourself' or something?"

"That's ridiculous," he said flatly. "Surely the five of us can simply get it done by the end of the week. Seeing as they only brought back the best so far."

She blushed a bit at that. "Well, maybe for you," she said. "But I mean, you're talking about Thanos, the guy who put down a twelve-district-wide rebellion. Five of us isn't going to cut it, I don't think. Not without help, anyway. And the guys that're helping us — don't want to move yet. No one will tell me why, though."

"Have a little faith," Kurt said with a wave and a smirk. "If they gave us what we needed, it would already be over."

"Are you sure?" Cassie looked over him for a moment, suddenly with a more appraising gaze. "Because I saw what happened in the Games when you and your friend killed that creep from Ten. You don't like killing, so... you really want to try and kill more creeps?"

He paused a bit, frowning her way, but he simply gave her a little nod as he made his decision. "If that's what it takes to get out of here, and to stop the Games and everything else, then yes. If there's one thing I learned — it's that some things need to be done."

She looked his way almost apologetically for a moment. "It's really not so bad — the Tahiti program, I mean," she said. "Lonely, yeah, but it's better than living back home. Three square meals, plenty to do — it's not so horrible."

Kurt let out a sigh and just nodded. "I'm sure you're right. I just …"

"Yeah, I know," Cassie said with a sad little smile and, before he could react, she threw her arms around him in a hug. When she released him and took a step back, she just cleared her throat. "Anyway… we can… there's a rec room with a television where we can watch the interviews. Charles says you shouldn't be alone, but if you don't want me to sit with you, I can just stay on the other side of the room or something."

"I think I'd prefer the company, to be honest," he admitted.

She brightened instantly. "Great!" she said as she half pulled him along into the rec room.

He was surprised to find it was a lot like the one in the Capitol building, where he and the other tributes had trained for their Games, with a pool table and several couches as well as a chess board and other such things. She directed him to the couch nearest the television and turned it on, flipping through until she found the interviews themselves instead of just the coverage of the interviews with a muttered, "Two weeks out of the year we get more than the one channel and it's all about the _Games_."

"If they reported what was actually happening in the districts, there wouldn't be a Games," Kurt pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," she grumbled good-naturedly. "It's just annoying." She fell back into a seat by Kurt and propped her feet up on the coffee table in front of them, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "Are you going to be okay? I know the guy who won was your friend, and this stuff is always hard. They're gonna show all the bad stuff that happened to him in rapid succession. I didn't even _know_ Bobbi, and I hated all the stuff they said afterwards."

"I'd like to know," Kurt said. "Logan didn't really talk about it while we were there, and I … it would be good to get an idea of what I didn't see and how he's handling things now."

"No one handles it," Cassie told him as the procession of victors started up, and Kurt couldn't help but be impressed that Charles had gotten up there in the short time since he spoke with Kurt and when the interviews began. "We all just survive it," she continued. "But don't worry. Charles is really good. He came and helped Dr. Essex with me because… well, I was _twelve_. If he can talk me out of that total meltdown? He can _totally_ help your friend," she added in a clear attempt to reassure him.

"I certainly hope you're right," Kurt said with a sigh.

The two of them fell silent as the theme music played and the lights brightened on the stage to reveal the too-white toothy grin of Tanaleer Tivan, the interviewer. He was practically preening with excitement as he started in on his introduction.

"Welcome, _welcome!"_ he gushed, throwing out his arms like he could physically receive the applause. He didn't try to quiet down the cheering, drinking it in for a while until it died down on its own naturally. He looked around the audience like it was a gathering of old friends as he just shook his head. "What a year, what a year!" he announced, again to more cheering. "I don't think we've ever seen anything like it. I can't remember a year with so many compelling outsiders. So many underdogs to choose from! So much heartbreak and romance for so many young people." At that last line, the crowd couldn't seem to hold themselves back any longer and just burst into a frenzy of agreement, and Tivan almost had to shout over them. "Certainly we're used to seeing alliances form and crumble, but this year? _This YEAR!_ " He just held out his hands to receive the adulation once more as the crowd went nuts. He was grinning by then at somewhere near a manic level.

"But you didn't come out here to see me talk about this year — oh no," he said as he seemed to be getting into a groove. "Don't let _me_ stand in your way, Marvel. Let me present to you — your District Seven team!"

The crowd went wild as the prep team and the stylist and escort from Seven came out, followed by the victors, but it was when Logan came out that it reached a point that Kurt knew must have been deafening to those in the building, though he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but wrong about the whole thing. It was just… off. The way they had Logan dressed up in a suit, no trace of the boy from Seven in his outfit as his expression clearly said that he would rather have been pretty much anywhere else.

But he was alive. There was no trace of the dirt, blood, sweat — nothing from the arena, almost like it had been scrubbed from him so the Capitol wouldn't have to see it.

Tivan greeted him jauntily as the crowd was simply too loud to hear anything but his booming voice over the microphone, before finally, Logan was seated and the recap began — and Kurt found that, despite himself, he was leaning forward, completely wrapped up in what was going on as well, his gaze flicking from Logan's face to the screens as they went through a short retelling of the days at the Capitol before they got to the bloodbath.

And Kurt couldn't help it — he found himself watching the fight at the Tesseract half holding his breath as Logan tousled with the girl from Two — and later watched his friend scrape together the claws. "So that's where he got them," he whispered out as he watched, aware of Cassie keeping half an eye on him.

But then Tivan started to play up the dramatics again, and already, Kurt was starting to hate the sound of that man's voice. "Your first kill really could have been there, in the bloodbath, but you spared her — only to find another victim. A better one, perhaps? One that wouldn't bring the wrath of the Careers on your head so early on?" Tivan was grinning over the image playing on the screen of a tribute who approached Logan shortly after he made his claws. Kurt didn't know what was happening from the angles they used — he just knew that one minute, a tribute was approaching, and the next, Raven had claws through her chest.

And that — that was the first sign of trouble. Logan wasn't listening to Tivan at all, and he actually _flinched_. That was nothing like the Logan he'd known in the arena, and even as Tivan laughed over Logan's "jumpy" state, Kurt found that he had to remind himself to breathe.

What had _happened_ to his friend?

He didn't have much time to wonder, though, because the very next thing Tivan turned to - was Kurt.

He was acutely aware, suddenly, that Cassie wasn't watching the interview but was watching him as Tivan talked about _Kurt_ , the reaction of the crowd and the murmurs that rippled through it troubling enough before Tivan even started trying to push Logan, talking about Kurt's death, pushing to know what he'd seen when the tracker jackers attacked… until very suddenly, the tone of the interview changed with a single question — "Perhaps it was to keep your young lady friend to yourself?"

Kurt could see his own confusion mirrored in his friend's face before he saw the moment Logan just — shut Tivan off. And shut him down with almost a dare, asking if Tivan still felt friendly as Kurt just couldn't help but chuckle at that. At least Logan was still _Logan_ , if that line was any indication.

But Tivan just picked up the pace, the interview gaining speed as they hurtled toward the final day of the Games, and Kurt saw the replay of both Tony and Bruce's deaths. He didn't quite understand it. He felt like he was missing something, because the Logan on the screen, the one fighting both of those tributes — he looked different. Kurt didn't know how, but he knew something had changed. There was some piece of the puzzle they weren't telling him.

He didn't have to wait long, though, as Tivan seemed to suddenly backtrack to earlier in the Games. He played up the dramatics, now — for their alliance. For Team Awesome.

"...all members from outlier districts." Tivan showed off his stunning white smile as they began to play the clips from their alliance. The focus was on Logan, of course, because he was the victor, but it was almost… _fun_ to watch when they first met up and to see their alliance form. The moments they had chosen were the best moments of the Games, pure enjoyment and friendship.

He almost had to laugh when they showed Kate's initial reaction to Logan — his two friends clearly ready to attack each other. It had been a relief to watch them gain each other's trust, and he almost smiled through much of the recap as they showed that trust and camaraderie building until it started to occur to him, somewhere in the back of his mind, that they were _only_ using clips of Logan and Kate.

"That first night, we were all riveted as we watched the two of you become closer," Tivan was saying over a clip of Logan and Kate, shoulder to shoulder with little smirks as they teased each other. Kurt didn't remember seeing that — he must have been asleep — but it certainly looked like the two of them were even closer than he realized after that spider fight. How long they'd stayed up talking, he suddenly wasn't sure. "We all saw the change. That night by the fire, we watched the sparks fly — I hope you'll forgive me for being so cliche, but really. A firelit romance. It was almost _innocent_ to watch her fall for you, though she didn't know your true nature then, did she?"

Tivan shook his head at his own question as it was clear Logan had just checked out and Tivan was just going on in his own narrative. "And by the next morning, well, the two of you seemed to warm right up to each other." He showed another clip that Kurt hadn't been aware of, too busy staying with Kate — Logan finding and cutting the pipes for Kate's staves so they were the right length and balance for her.

Logan seemed suddenly to be more interested in what Tivan was saying, even as they played the rescue of Peter Parker on the big screens. They were only playing snippets, all three of them together working in easy rhythm — the spider that had targeted Kate springing for her before Logan appeared out of seemingly nowhere and just barrelled into it. The concerned look he gave her when she crawled out from underneath the dead spider. The two of them teasing each other about how soft Logan was to save Peter. All three of them checking over each other, the camera focused on Kate as she looked downright concerned over something, though it didn't show which of the three boys she was looking at.

"And little Peter Parker," Tivan said, almost tutting as he went through it. "That was just one person too many, wasn't it? Too many of her boys to divide her attention. I'm sure he didn't _mean_ to come between the two of you, but it certainly did change the dynamic when there were no quiet moments with your darling little _Elf_ asleep and unaware."

Kurt could feel his mouth going a bit dry. He hadn't known, hadn't seen — if this was what had happened… He didn't believe what Tivan was peddling about what had happened with the tracker jackers, that Logan had killed Kurt on purpose. No, that wasn't like Logan. But the rest of it… There was enough evidence that he suddenly wasn't sure what to believe.

Logan did try to rise to Peter's defense, but it was clear he just didn't have a way to fight against the clips and the narrative Tivan was telling, especially not when there was footage like the pool game and Logan's bet with Peter. And when Logan just seemed to give up on that attempt and looked down at his hands, the recap played on.

The hunt that Kate and Logan had been on was clearly Tivan's favorite topic, and they played plenty of it. The gleam of excitement on Kate's face as they worked in tandem, the unabashed awe as she watched him work — they'd captured all of it. And by the time they got to the storm, Tivan was all but cackling.

"Did you know she followed you out into the rain despite the danger?" Tivan asked gleefully, knowing Logan wouldn't answer. "Would it have changed anything if you knew she'd tried to save you?"

Kurt's heart sank as he remembered the look Kate had given him just before she rushed out into the rain after Logan. The almost apologetic one as she made her decision. How had he missed it?

The recap started to speed up a bit now that the in-Games romance was through. Tivan was beside himself with glee as Logan looked clearly tired while they played through a quick few moments of Logan's reunion with Peter and Kurt, though clearly the focus was still on Kate as Tivan lamented that the three boys never did find their lost hawk. It was only like twisting the knife in Logan as they played moments of how close they had come, and Kurt watched his friend's expression as he just looked caught off-guard — and then clearly upset as Tivan switched without warning to the fight between Kate and Steve.

Again, Kurt couldn't help but feel like he'd missed something. They hadn't played any clips of Kate since they were separated in the storm, and now she was injured, desperate, not at all the Kate he'd known in the Games. But that played into the narrative too as Tivan just all but giggled. "She was looking for you the entire time!" Tivan couldn't help but tell Logan just before, to confirm it and really seal the deal, they played that final scream before Kate died.

Kurt felt very nearly numb, aware somewhere in the back of his mind that they were playing the final fight between Steve and Logan. Kurt didn't know the boy from Five well at all beyond the little time they'd spent tracking down Cletus, and now he suddenly found himself almost _glad_ Steve had been killed after what he'd done to Kate, though when he caught himself, he just fell into an even deeper frown, the look on his own face nearly identical to the one on Logan's as the interview wrapped up and the applause started.

They watched a moment longer as the cameras showed a very irate-looking Logan — almost glaring at anyone that would dare to applaud Tivan's commentary as the group from Seven made their way off the stage.

Cassie was just about to say something when the gasps from the crowd started up freshly and the applause all but fell to shocked pandemonium as an apparent fist fight between Logan and Creed tumbled from the wings of the stage into the spotlight that hastily popped back up while the two men went toe to toe — live.

"Oh, that … that's not … that isn't supposed to happen," Cassie said, wide eyed as the Sentinels belatedly broke up the fight, and to the delight of the announcers, Logan's little stylist rushed in and took his head in her hands, clearly saying something that managed to cut through to him enough to get him to nod and relax slightly before the Sentinels released him and she led him off — with Tivan's half-whispered, clearly elated commentary on how Logan's emotions were running high leading the way… and leading up to some comparisons between Kate and Logan's stylist that had Cassie glaring before she just switched off the screen and stuck her tongue out at the blank television before she looked back over at Kurt.

The young blonde watched him for a long moment as he had clearly just… checked out, trying to process everything he'd just seen. "Are — are you okay?" she asked tentatively when he still hadn't spoken for a while. "Maybe we shouldn't have watched the interviews."

"I didn't know," Kurt said quietly.

"Well, you died before the rest of the alliance," Cassie tried to reason. "And a lot of that is just… they pick and choose what they think is the best stuff. It's all dramatics, really. I mean. Not all of it. The death and gore and stuff is definitely real. But they like to tell stories." She said all of this in a rush and looked downright concerned over him.

But he just shook his head at that. "Oh, I'll be alright," he said, still whisper-quiet. "I just … I didn't _know_."

She bit her lip and watched him even more carefully. "Well, you did say you _wanted_ to know," she said slowly. "And Charles thought it might help, even if Dr. Essex was against it. I mean, I still don't know what happened in most of _mine_ , so maybe I'm better off, because you — you look really awful right now." She stopped and tried to rein in her river of words, still looking concerned. "Do you... need something? Water or food or… I don't know. A hug? 'Cause if you go see Dr. Essex like that, you're going to be stuck doing sessions with him for _ages._ "

"I suppose a bit of fresh air is out of the question," he said with a ghost of a laugh.

"Yeah, sorry," she said, looking a little relieved when he started to smile. "There's supposed to be a neat new training facility that Hank wants some of the brainiacs from your year to work on, though, and it's supposed to simulate outside, so — soon?" She offered him a shy sort of smile. "I mean, it's not the same, but…" She just let out a breath and seemed to run out of words at last.

"We should get away from the television," he said finally. "It's just going to replay all the worst of that for the next few hours."

"Yeah," Cassie agreed with a little nod. "They've already been replaying a lot of it in the leadup. They replayed the family interviews a few hours ago, and I just… I hate those."

"I'm sure they weren't much to watch," Kurt said gently.

She let out a little laugh with no hint of amusement. "Yeah, well, it turns out Kate and I run in the same circles. Her friends used to be mine, and… it was just weird seeing them again. They're so much… older."

"Then … at least you don't need to explain to me who is who when you tell me about yourself," Kurt said with an attempt at a teasing smile.

Cassie nodded and offered a hand to get him off the couch. "Well, you're _supposed_ to go talk to Dr. Essex, but _I_ say let's take a walk first. You look like you need it."

* * *

 _July 27_

 _Capitol Plaza_

* * *

"If I could have a moment of your time, director," said Charles Xavier calmly as the victor wheeled himself carefully into the gathered group. The after-parties of the Games were a necessary part of the whole event, but Fury had never cared for them, so he'd be lying if he said he didn't relish the excuse to get away from the airheads that had been flocking him since the interviews aired.

"I haven't got much to spare, but I suppose for one of our victors," Fury said, well aware that there were cameras everywhere. "I could give you a moment or two."

"I appreciate the sacrifice," Charles replied with a smile he always had for these events. "I won't keep you long; your Games were just so fascinating, I hope you'll permit me a little professional curiosity."

"Perhaps somewhere a bit less loud," Fury said, gesturing toward a room that he knew was likely unoccupied. Once the two of them were inside and the door closed, Fury turned his attention to the wheelchair-bound victor. "What's on your mind?" he asked after he'd flipped on a tiny device in his lapel pocket.

"Your newest victor," Charles said, his tone much more business-like than before. "The angles you're pushing — he's only going closer to the edge, and I thought it was clear we couldn't afford to lose the loyalty of this year's victor."

"He can handle it," Fury replied shortly. "We needed to keep the people, and more importantly, the president's attention."

"You're a clever man, director. I'm sure you could come up with a thousand ways to spin those Games without tearing him down. Or did we not watch the same interview? Surely you noticed when he shut down entirely — and he hasn't come back."

"He'll be _fine._ " Fury looked irritated for a moment. "We needed to keep the image for him that we wanted. The interview solidified it for us."

"And for him. He believes most of it. Not your romanticized nonsense, but the rest of it. That much is clear even from the short time I've been able to spend with him tonight, before Sarkissian monopolized his attention."

That at least seemed to capture Fury's attention.

"Oh, yes, she's taken an interest in him. Almost as keen as the one she and Schmidtt already have in each other." Charles looked Fury's way. "And with what we have in the balance, we _need_ him to be more stable, aware enough to do more than just brush her off. She won't stop trying."

"If he managed to brush her off already, he'll be fine," Fury replied.

"Not when he's alone and without his stylist and escort to help get him elsewhere," Charles insisted. "You're trying to break what needs fixing. Don't be surprised when that costs you."

"As of tomorrow, she won't have access anyhow," Fury pointed out. "Or did you forget he's going to be safely tucked away in Seven?"

"Officially speaking, yes, he will be. But you and I both know our victors spend more time in the Capitol than the general public is aware of, for various reasons."

"I'll have my agents keep an eye on him," Fury said finally. "This one won't be able to come back much before the victory tour. Not with Creed watching him."

"I want to know if his situation changes," Charles insisted.

"What do you think you'll be able to do about it, Charles?" Fury challenged.

"Only as much as you _allow_ me to, director," Charles shot back.

"We've seen guys like him before. Give him some space and he'll be back to himself in no time."

"I sincerely hope you're right about that."


	3. What the Cameras Never Show

**Notes: We tend to think that there are more factions at work, and we're giving the 'good guys' credit in that they would be smart enough to offer psychiatric support to zombies. More or less. Of course, when you have Hank Pym and Nathaniel Essex and Charles Xavier doing the Tahiti stuff? It's not… exactly… balanced. At all.**

 **Also, yes, there should be a line for people to punch Creed.** **Logan will help. Make sure everyone gets a turn. Here, Charlie, have a baseball bat because you can't put your weight into it. No, no, bitty girls get three hits because they need to get it RIGHT. Stop tucking your thumb.**

 **To our lovely guest - so much is going to hurt. But there is balance. I hope. We'll try not to kill anyone (again)... unless they really deserve it. Then we won't even apologize.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: "What the Cameras Never Show"**

* * *

 _July 27_

 _Noh-Varr's Quarters_

* * *

The last of the parties had ended hours ago, and all that was left for the teams in the Capitol to do was to wait to send off their charges in the morning.

Jubilee had stayed with Logan while he silently just drank his way through almost half of a bottle of whiskey on his own before he simply couldn't stand or do much of anything else. Once he passed out, she slipped out of the suite and headed over to see her closest confidante for some much-needed, quickly-stolen snuggles.

She'd long ago changed into her preferred shorts and tank top and hadn't seen a soul on her way to Noh-Varr's room. Likely most of them were doing the after parties still. But that suited her just fine. There were pretty strict rules about fraternization between the district Games teams — presumably because they didn't want any of the Capitolites to give preferential treatment to anyone but their assigned tributes and victors — and with everything _else_ that was going on, she was fine with no one teasing her about breaking that rule as she hit Twelve's suite.

"That was a disaster," she said as she closed his door behind her and made a beeline for Noh, who had also changed into his preferred clothes — a pair of black shorts and some headphones hanging around his neck — barefooted and bare-chested otherwise. She shook her head as she finally let all her worry hit her expression. "He's still totally shut down."

"An unmitigated one. Tivan is a dramatist at best," Noh replied without even hesitating or looking up from where he was searching through some songs on his music player.

"You know it was all garbage, right?" she asked on her way over to slip into the seat next to him. "Not one bit of that … that _story_ was true."

"Yes, I was, in fact, paying attention during the early days of the Games before they settled on that ridiculous tale. I trust at least some of those that watched it were doing the same," Noh said smoothly as he simply handed her one of his ear buds.

"I'm going to be sorry to see him go back home, but he's got to get out of this city," she said quietly, snuggling into Noh's side. "He's _completely_ bombed right now. Punishing his liver."

"He would have to be drunk to put up with that monster without punching him," Noh said with a little smirk.

"Which one?" Jubilee asked with a frown. "Tivan or his new neighbor?"

He just reached over and tipped her chin to meet her gaze. "Both."

"They keep saying he'll be okay once he gets back," she said, shaking her head in his hand. "I'm not buying it."

"Nor should you." Noh let out a sigh. "I haven't ever seen a tribute of _mine_ come to victory, but I _have_ seen a victor come to terms with a lifetime of this from afar, and even from my position, it is obvious: It doesn't wash away."

"So what can I do to help him?" she asked.

He paused to think about it for a moment. "Don't let him be alone if you can help it. And do not be alone yourself. Ask Mary Jane for advice — she went through this recently with Quill, after all."

"I just don't know … do you think she'd help?"

He nodded. "Attached as she was to Steve Rogers, I doubt anyone with a heart could turn down a request for help from someone as bright and kind as you, Jubilee."

"You are _terribly_ biased, though I don't know what I did to earn your favor," she said with a little laugh. "I'm not complaining, mind you."

He just grinned at her and kissed her forehead. "Well, if you are wondering, it was when you hummed along to the Ronettes as I passed by when you were still a budding stylist outside the Games."

"Excuse me, but I am _still_ a budding stylist," she teased.

"Haven't you noticed? Jubilee, you have arrived. You are a star," he said, looking honestly proud of her.

"No one knows the stars like you," she countered. "You were born in them."

He just laughed at her and shook his head. "Maybe I should come down to Earth more often. I've been told I need to be more grounded and keep my head on straight. Less alcohol," he said with semi-severity.

"Don't you dare," she said with the slightest giggle. "You need your rocket fuel to get around." There was a long pause, and she'd just let the next song play all the way through before she finally broke the silence. "I just wish there was a way that I could check on him. Because right now, I'm … a little worried."

"I wish I knew what to tell you," he said honestly. "I don't know. This job, this situation… I just don't know."

"Only stylist to get a victor her first year," she muttered. "I mean… I'm glad. But still he's not the same as he was before. At all."

"Well, I cannot speak to his state, but as for your newfound fame... you were meant for the stars," he tried to tease.

"Is that how you're going to try to get fresh?" she teased without missing a beat.

"My Jubilee," he said in mock horror, " _that_ is how rumors start. I would _never_."

She just grinned widely at him before she gave him a squeeze. "Never say never," she laughed. "But ... if I'm endangering your virtue, maybe I should go back to my heartbroken victor. He's an amazingly good hugger - not that he shows it."

"You should care for him, yes," he agreed slowly as a troublemaking smile started to grow over his expression, "but he would not be the heartbroken one should you leave." His eyes were sparkling with barely restrained laughter.

"You're terribly wonderful," she said with a grin. "But Moira made it clear she thinks I'm like … nine years old. I think she doesn't approve of my bubblegum."

"Ah, so I'm the one trespassing on your virtue. Your very drunken and volatile friend. You should not be seen with me," he surmised with one eyebrow raised.

She laughed outright and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Yes. That's the problem, I'm _sure._ So predatory sitting here listening to music — just waiting for me to come and get you."

He just beamed at her and pulled her into a bit more of a snuggle. "People will talk, Miss Lee. You are such a rising star, and I am such a disgraced former marvel."

"You are not disgraced," she insisted. "You're the one that showed me how to shine, and I'll punch anyone in the face that tries to say otherwise." She peeked up at him with a barely restrained smile for his reaction to her little joke.

"That… is not how you should follow my example," he chuckled, shaking his head at her.

"Too bad, that's what I'm doing. Just waiting for some big dumb jerk to sock in the mouth."

He shook his head and put on a look of longsuffering. "That's not the kind of trendsetting I set out to do when I got this job."

"I'll be sure to wear your designs when I do it too. It can be your new brand. Best for kicking butt in."

"You are terrible."

"You love it," she said with a smile before she let out a sigh and untucked her legs from underneath her. "But... I'm going to have to go and check on Logan now. He was on the couch when I left. I doubt he's moved, but .. I don't want anyone else to pester him either, and that Viper woman was circling."

"Don't try to do too much alone," he said, his expression slipping a bit.

"I have a pair of scissors," she assured him. "I'm dangerous."

He quickly squeezed her one last time before he just sighed and took back his earbud. "Good luck, Jubilee. I mean it."

"It's no biggie," she promised, kissing the top of his head. "I'm just going to more or less take up that same spot, just … next to my victor."

"You're going to start all new rumors," he teased.

She rolled her eyes at him as she walked backward to the door. "They're already started. Watch the news. The rumors are flying already. They just haven't decided who seduced who."

"That drivel?" He waved his hand. "Nonsense. I'll stick with my Jubilee delivery news."

"They caught us on tape hugging — and the whole mess after the interview? It's already a problem."

"They cannot think you would ... you're a _stylist_ , Jubilee." Noh gaped at her. "Even our friendship has been discrete in the highest calibre."

"They don't seem to think that's an issue. Impressionable younger girl. Clearly affectionate and..." She gestured to her face. "My resemblance, after all."

"Nonsense. You share _some_ similarities, but Kate was taller, among other things," he said, waving her off. "Not to mention you are far… sparklier."

She stopped at the door and gave him a dry look. "Dazzler already told me we were cute together. And tiny."

"If I thought it would help, I would kiss you publicly, but then we would both lose our jobs for fraternization," he said, only half joking.

"We'll have to wait until you're off of probation at any rate," she said with a wave. "Try to restrain your affections until then. I know it's hard to do."

He couldn't help but smirk her way. "In the meantime, don't let these airheads around us drag you down. You are just too good for that."

"I'm starting to think they're just trying to isolate him anyhow," she said with a wave.

"Then you must go to him. I'll always be here with music for your return."

"For the next few months anyhow," she teased. "Jailbird."

"I believe the term you are looking for is jailbait," he teased right back.

"No no, we're talking about you, not me," she laughed before she slipped out and headed back to the District Seven suite.

* * *

 _July 28_

 _Triskellion_

* * *

Now that the Games were over, Skye had a little bit of time to rest and recover from everything that had happened, from watching all of the kids that she'd helped to _pick_ being killed off one by one. And just when she thought she had a handle on _that_ , Coulson told her that this upcoming year, the Quarter Quell, would need a few more tributes like the ones she'd found when she opened the files to jails and other centers. The criminal type. They wanted these Games to be meaner.

Meaner. That just… that was fun.

So, Skye found herself just going through some coding that _wasn't_ about the Games just to give her mind something to do. It was slightly different than infiltration and hacking, but coding was constructive and honestly fun. And didn't involve writing algorithms to make people _meaner._

"Hey, Skye," Coulson said as he seemed to almost appear behind her. "I need you to pull up one of the tapes from the Games. The unedited Creed tape."

"I thought the Games stuff was over until the victory tour," Skye said even as she was keying in her commands. "At least, all the new broadcasts and such."

"They are," he said. "But I needed it for something else."

Skye made a face, wondering what the heck her boss could possibly want with a tape from _Creed._ "That guy creeps me out. Whatever he had to say… I don't really want to know."

"He has that effect on everyone," Coulson replied. "But if it shows what I think it does, then I have one of the tributes picked out for Seven already."

"Well, that'll ease up my workload," she said, raising an eyebrow at him as she pulled it up. "Alright — here's the file. Where do you need it?"

"Flash drive," he said without hesitating.

She nodded for a moment and then made a few extra commands before she handed the drive to him. "Password's _victorcreep_ , all lowercase." She paused before she would have handed it to him. "What do you think you'll find on it? Just out of curiosity."

"Something damning," he told her frankly, and she was surprised when she saw a spark of anger just behind his gaze. "A confession maybe."

"Well," Skye said with a frown, already making a copy for herself, "whatever he confessed to, it ticked off our newest victor something awful."

"That it did," Coulson agreed before he just pocketed the flash drive and turned to leave. "I'll be in touch."

As he left her little office area Skye looked thoughtful for a moment before she put her earphones in, looked both ways past where Coulson had left and opened the file he'd requested for herself. Anything that had Coulson's interest like that was worth looking into.

* * *

 _July 28_

 _Capitol Housing for the Mentors_

* * *

Ian Boothby, the escort for District Twelve, had only ever heard Black Bolt speak once in his life before now. The guy didn't like to speak, because it _hurt_ , but when he did, it was usually something big. The first time Ian had ever heard him speak, it was because a party-high Tivan had made a comment about Medusa, his wife. Tivan had shut up so fast he looked as pale white as his hair.

The second time had happened only a few minutes ago. Ian didn't know what Agent Coulson of SHIELD had brought Black Bolt, but he did know that whatever it was, it had the guy mad enough that he had nearly shouted: "Gather everyone."

Everyone, of course, being the victors that they could trust. Ian knew that much; he had been an escort for Twelve long enough to see that there was a pretty obvious divide between the victors. And seeing as Black Bolt needed a translator for those who couldn't sign, Ian had very quickly been inducted into the list of those who knew which victors fell on which side, though he wasn't sure if that made him a trusted member of the group or if that just meant they thought he would keep his mouth shut. Which... he so would. There were some intimidating victors in that mix.

And that was how the young escort from Twelve ended up trying to round up victors, going down the floors in order from Twelve down because it was just easier — and because the Career victors made him nervous, if he was honest, so he was saving them for last.

He'd already sent Sam Wilson up to go see Black Bolt — the two men from the outermost districts were close, and Sam was on his feet as soon as he'd seen it was Ian at the door — and when he got to the suites for District Ten, both Charles Xavier and Hank McCoy were there just talking quietly. They weren't watching the Games coverage, but rather enjoying a game of chess together, and they both looked up when the door opened.

"Sorry to interrupt," Ian said with what was almost a signature nervous shuffle for him.

"Is there something the matter?" Hank asked as he turned toward Ian with a look of interest, watching the young man shuffle his feet as he almost always did when he had to interact with anyone he didn't really know well.

"I'm not … entirely sure," Ian admitted. "But Black Bolt asked me to gather everyone. I mean. Out loud. So probably."

"We'll be right there," Charles said, immediately falling into a frown, though he gave Ian a polite sort of nod. "Thank you."

Ian just nodded and took off toward the elevator once more, gathering up the rest of the usual suspects as he went. Erik Lensherr of Nine, Jessica Drew of Eight…. He paused at District Seven and peeked in to see who was there, because Creed _terrified_ him.

When he looked in, the newest victor was half leaning on his stylist's shoulder, and his mentor… Ian breathed out a sigh of relief. Creed was still enjoying all the attention somewhere else. Letting out all his breath, he called out to the Seven escort, "Moira, have you seen Groot?"

She gave him an odd look but tipped her head toward the balcony. "He prefers the outdoors," she said.

Ian just nodded and slipped past the semi-conscious new victor to go find Groot. "Black Bolt asked me to gather everyone. Out loud," he said, as soon as he'd closed the balcony doors behind him. He'd started adding the 'out loud' part as a matter of course by that point, since it seemed to really get people moving.

Even Groot's mangy raccoon stopped and just stared at him for a moment before the tall, lanky man simply walked inside. He looked at Jubilee for a moment and stood stock still until she waved him off, and he'd made it to the elevators before Ian had even made it to the door — the guy was fast when he wanted to be, though the impressively long strides definitely helped.

With Seven out of the way, it was just a matter of Quill, from Five, and Rhodey, from Three — and then the Careers, who Ian had always felt intimidated by. They were just, honestly, still so _violent_ even when the Games were _over_ now, and he was half terrified that they would destroy him in a second if he made even the slightest of wrong moves.

Two was the most terrifying, honestly. At least One had the Fantastic Four, who were actually pretty nice for Careers. And Four was just kind of weird, with all that focus on honor and fighting — though they weren't outright psychopaths. But, thankfully, it wasn't Sarkissian or Masters who answered the door for District Two but the _only_ victor from Two that Ian didn't think was going to kill him for looking at her sideways — though he was still sure that Bobbi Morse could, in fact, kill him in a heartbeat.

He took a deep breath on seeing her and tried not to shuffle too nervously. "Black Bolt asked for everyone — out loud," Ian said in what was now almost a repetitious explanation.

"I'll get Sue," Bobbi replied quietly.

Ian looked entirely relieved at that and nodded. "Thank you," he breathed out before he headed for the elevator, glad to finally return to his own district suite. He was lucky in that his victor was easy to deal with, unlike Darcy or some of the others. But it did always make him nervous when he had to deal with the rest of the victor group, especially when it was the full district complement. Norman was worse than Jess. Stane harder to deal with than Rhodes. Seven was just something he didn't touch. At all. Not if he could help it. It was just… way too scary.

He was glad the manipulative little boy from his district hadn't won so he didn't have _those_ problems — he'd heard horror stories of stylists and escorts being terrorized by their victors, after all.

By the time he made it back to the Twelve suite, he wasn't a bit surprised to see that Black Bolt was already signing furiously to Jessica Drew — the most fluent in sign language of the victors in general — who was just looking angrier and angrier as they leaned their heads together to keep the cameras from catching them.

A few moments later, when Bobbi entered the room, she glanced around and carefully found where the camera was and put a small device just underneath it before she made her way over to the crowd. "Alright, where's the fire?" she asked, arms crossed.

"In Seven," Jess said with a frown as she and Black Bolt shared dark looks. "Coulson slipped him the unedited tapes from the Games." She tipped her head at Bobbi. "Blackagar mentioned you and he had to go bail his stylist out the other day? This is why, apparently."

"So I _do_ get to see what the hubbub is about," she said, moving a bit closer. "I didn't think he'd turn around that fast."

Jessica glanced at Black Bolt again. "Well ... you know how our friend in SHIELD gets when he's pissed off." She motioned for Black Bolt to start the recording once everyone was seated, and while none of the victors were surprised that Creed was capable of the crimes he confessed to, they were surprised at the _extent_. And the fact that it had happened under their noses when they had all made it a point to look out for each other and the kids in their care during the Games.

Groot in particular had an almost violent reaction, which was not quite normal for him, and stormed out of the room to slam the door behind him almost as soon as the tape was done playing, though he had knocked over an expensive-looking table decoration on his way out.

Several of the other victors looked like they were just a step away from following his lead — certainly Logan had the same reaction when he'd heard it, and trashing a cooler or a Capitol suite seemed appropriate. Others, like Charles Xavier, had simply gone still, eyes flashing and just _livid_ to the point of becoming very nearly mute.

"We need to get this kid on our side," Sue said, her voice full of more fury than anyone had heard from her since her Games as she was the first to get her reaction under control enough to speak.

"We need to get this kid a bodyguard. Or nine," Rhodey countered, shaking his head at the now blank screen.

"He broke Creed's nose before the games started," Quill said. "Looks like these two are going to be at each other's throats."

"To the Capitol's delight," Erik observed with a bit of fire in his gaze.

"If they're too busy fighting, they can't pick a side, and Creed refuses to pick too," Sam pointed out. "And it'll keep them both as something that the public wants to see - so the Capitol might not try _too_ hard to stop it, either."

"That'll make it hard to get close until at least the victory tour," Jess observed with a frown. "But we can't let it wait any longer than that. Not with something like this hanging over his head for six months."

"Yeah, see what you can get on him before the tour," Bobbi agreed, already shifting her stance as it was clear she was gearing up for a warpath. " _I'm_ going to have a talk with Coulson — Fury if I can manage it."

"And what can we do in the meantime?" Rhodey asked. "What? Just … hope for the best?"

"I have an … arrangement with Fury to monitor him," Charles admitted, his hands folded in front of him as he was clearly upset as well. "And it seems every time we learn something more about the truth of what's been happening, I'm glad for that arrangement."

The other victors in the room just glanced at each other, lapsing back into a bit of silence. This was going to make things more complicated for all of them, and none of them envied the work ahead of anyone who managed to talk to the kid.

* * *

 _July 29_

 _Hangar in the Tahiti Wing_

* * *

As Carol understood it, she was the first in this 'Tahiti Program' to be trained specifically as a pilot. So far, that didn't mean much for the moment outside of some serious studying so that she could get familiar with the layout, the terminology, that sort of thing. Her instructor, James Rhodes, had stopped in to say hello earlier, when she first woke up from being dead, but apparently now that the newest victor was awake up where the rest of the world was, the parties going on topside were more important.

Carol could sort of understand that, since this whole place was clearly secret, and people would ask where Rhodey had gone — and he couldn't exactly tell them, "Oh, I was teaching a formerly dead tribute how to fly secret government planes."

But still, it was a little screwed up that parties were taking precedence over training for what Carol had been repeatedly told was an honest to goodness revolution.

When Rhodey finally did come in for flight training, he was obviously irritated. Jaw tight, tensed stance as he jerkily moved through the hangar. "Tell me you have your preflight down on this one," he said in a short tone.

"As much as I can without actually flying the thing," Carol said, her head tipped to one side as she frowned at him. "You okay?" she couldn't help but ask since, well, usually he was actually a decent instructor. Really nice, and he walked her through everything without talking down to her, which was _such_ a relief.

"Just … more in the mood for a dogfight than an easy ride."

"That sounds more my speed too," Carol agreed with a small smirk, and Rhodey looked her way for a moment like he was trying to decide if she was serious.

"Well, let's go over the basics first, then we'll hit the double simulator and you can try to shoot me down," Rhodey suggested.

"Try," Carol repeated, letting the smirk grow.

"That's what I said," Rhodey replied, his angry facade cracking slightly with the promise of some fun. " _Try_."

She leaned against the side of the jet and crossed her arms as she looked him up and down. "Okay, then let's make this more interesting, seeing as you're so _sure_ you'll win."

"If you want to give me something, just give it to me now," Rhodes replied. "No reason to beat yourself up in the process."

She snorted at that and shook her head. "I was thinking instead you could tell me what's got you looking like you're ready to kill somebody _when_ I wipe the floor with you in the double simulator."

"And what do I get _when_ I win?" Rhodes asked, with a little smirk and his arms crossed. "Are you going to break down and take that medic class I told you about?"

She shrugged up one shouler. "Not like I have much else to bet with," she pointed out, gesturing at her SHIELD-issue clothes as evidence of her total lack of possessions. "So sure - why not? Since it's not going to happen."

He gave her an actual smile as he gestured for her to finish her walk through on the pre-flight before they got down to the simulators.

She had to give him a look as they went through the checklist, since he kept smirking at her. But finally, when she'd answered all his questions and hypotheticals, he let her pick which side of the simulator she wanted before he plugged in the preset for free-flight, and fully armed.

"We've got the same jet in this run," he said. "Just so you can't say I have an unfair advantage when you lose."

"Well at least I know you won't try to cheat to get a leg up on me — since you _need_ the help," she countered easily, partly just to see the look he gave her at that one.

"Honey, I don't need any kind of help like that. But you can go ahead and think that if it makes you feel better."

"Money where your mouth is, Rhodes," she replied, and the two of them just fell into a bit of silence — both grinning and confident — as they got into the simulation.

The sim was exhilarating — and amazingly fun, all things considered. Carol made an excellent showing of it, too, her hard work clearly paying off even if Rhodey hadn't been around for too much instruction since the parties started. But ultimately, it came down to experience, as Rhodey could clearly pull out the faster moves and fancier flying — though it had been _close_ , and he was sure to point that out to her when they both climbed out of the simulator.

"Give me… three days," Carol said, pretending to think it over. "Three days' more practice, and I'd have _had_ you."

"Three days more practice and you still would have lost," he replied with a little smile.

"We'll just have to see about that when we rematch," Carol said, rolling her shoulder a bit as she shot a smirk his way. "And we're absolutely having a rematch. After you show me that roll — that was a neat trick."

"I got all kinds of tricks," he said with a laughing little grin.

"Keep it to the flight sim, flyboy," Carol said with a smirk and a single raised eyebrow.

"Hey. I can keep it professional; you try to do the same."

She just smirked a little wider at him. "I _am_ keeping it professional. You won fair and square — I'll take that medic course from Cecilia too. But next time — next time, I'll have that roll. And a few other tricks you are _so_ showing me."

He just grinned back at her easily, though he didn't make a move for the door as he took a breath and tipped his head at her. "Hey. Miss Marvel … thanks for the break. You just kept me from killing someone when I go back to the parties."

"I'll reserve judgement on whether that was a good thing until I find out who it was you didn't kill," she said lightly, though she couldn't help but give him a warm smile. "But it is nice not to see the murder expression. It's not a good look on you."

"I don't know, I think my resting murder face is pretty good."

"Never settle for 'pretty good.' I don't," she told him with a shrug before she just waved at him. "Go — do the party thing. When you get back, I'll still be here. Ready to kick your butt."

* * *

 _July 30_

 _District Seven Suite_

* * *

"Och! Ye two!" Moira's voice cut through the silence of the living room area like a knife, and it was clear she wasn't thrilled with Logan and Jubilee in the least. "Wake up, wake up! Look at th' two of ye! Ye cannae be daein' things like this lassie — it jes' isnae allowed!" She glared at them as Jubilee and Logan just sleepily looked at each other and very carefully started to untangle and get up.

Jubilee had made it a habit to curl up with Logan before it got too late — just so she knew that he wouldn't try anything stupid, and as a result, she'd quickly discovered that he had trouble saying no to her. So of course, she took full advantage — which was how they found themselves getting yelled at by a very angry little escort.

It probably wasn't the fact that they were together that had Moira angry. She'd actually told Jubilee to stay close to him. It was likely more the fact that they'd gotten _comfortable_ with each other, and on this particular morning, Jubilee had awakened half covering him with his arm around her — exactly as they'd fallen asleep watching a movie on the couch. It was the kind of picture the rumor mill would have killed for, considering the narrative they were running — which was likely what had Moira up in arms about it.

While Moira fussed and fumed, and Jubilee tried to look properly ashamed of herself for … well …. snuggling with her victor ... Logan just got up and headed to his room, flat ignoring the stream of heavily-accented curses and complaints that Moira was letting loose. Of course, he could still hear everything as she dressed Jubilee down. He just wasn't expecting Jubilee to turn around and give it right back to her.

"Hey! You have no room to talk, lady!" Jubilee said, her finger in Moira's face as she jumped to her feet and squared up. "At least the rumors about me an' Logan are all fake! Can't say the same about you and Xavier, can we?"

Logan was leaning in his door by the time Jubilee had gotten that far, and it was clear that Moira had no response for her but to just gape.

"Nothin' like the pot callin' the kettle black," Logan said with a little smirk — though the fact that the two women hadn't expected him to even be there wasn't missed as they both jumped a little.

"Tha's entirely different, and ye know it," Moira shot back, crossing her arms over her chest and quickly regaining her composure. "Yer new." She directed her glare at Logan before turning to Jubilee. "An' off limits."

"Now, at th' risk of leavin' th' two of ye behind closed doors alone," Moira said, glaring at each of them in turn. "Ye need tae prep him fer his return home. He shoods swatch braw. E'en if he doesnae want tae." With that, she turned on her heel and marched off, leaving Logan and Jubilee staring first after her, then at each other.

"Do you even know what the hell she just said?" Logan asked with a disbelieving look on his face.

Jubilee just grinned and took a few steps toward him. "Yes. Yes I do. Go - clean up. I'll make sure you look good when you step off that train."


	4. Winding Down and Winding Up

**Notes: Moira … I have tried to make sure silly Scottish things slip in with her? There are a lot of things Scotts say that don't make sense to me, and luckily, I actually have 'a guy' from Scotland that I grab beers with from time to time. He will say odd things and I try to … apply them as best I can. So … more or less that was 'should look his best' in drunken Scottish.**

 **Creed hate party? Oh yeah. I'm down. We'll just have to see how long it takes for Logan to realize he has backing. (he can be slow to believe that kind of thing. ;) shhh.) (robbie says he's living in Hug Magnet Denial Land)**

 **And as for the cast… yes, it is rather large. There are so many amazing characters, but I shall forever love Ian and his "out loud" statements.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Winding Down and Winding Up**

* * *

 _July 30_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Janet Van Dyne watched from the other side of the one-way mirror as Charles Xavier gently explained to the young man on the hospital bed just what was going on here.

She could see why Charles was concerned. The young man seemed… jumpy when he'd first woken up alone. Or, well, jumpy was a mild way of putting it. Terrified would be a more accurate description. She'd seen all the readings on the medical equipment go through a huge spike, and it was clear that Tony Stark wasn't taking well to the afterlife.

It was fascinating to watch Charles work, though, just quietly chatting with Tony until he came down out of his panic, though even then, it was clear that the fact that he _had_ panicked was worrying Tony more than anything else, one hand on his heart where the device that had kept him alive during the Games was no longer present. She wondered if he could feel any phantom pain there. It had been a big part of him for so long...

Charles motioned toward the door, which was her cue to enter, and she gave Tony her very kindest smile as she slipped through and waved.

"Thought you said I wasn't dead, doc," Tony said with a sideways smirk Charles' way that just hadn't been there a few moments ago.

"If you follow that up with any kind of statement about me being an angel, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to come up with better material," Jan told him with a smile to match.

His smile only widened as Charles just seemed to shake his head at how quickly Tony had switched from being incredibly apprehensive to hitting on the first girl he saw. It was obvious even to Jan, who didn't have any of Charles' fancy degrees, that it was just his way of trying to control the situation or get some kind of grasp on it, but hey — Jan could handle flirty guys. She'd grown up in Seven, and she'd done more than her share of fending off lumberjack advances.

"Janet has volunteered to show you around and give you a taste of your new living arrangements," Charles explained, but that just had Tony grinning wider.

"What kind of arrangements?"

"This is probably the part where I mention I'm _happily_ married," Jan said, holding up her left hand.

"Really?" Tony raised both eyebrows. "You don't look _nearly_ old enough to be wearing the ball and chain."

She just rolled her eyes at him. "Are you going to hit on me for the entire tour?"

"Am I bothering you?"

"Only a little bit."

He just grinned at her and offered her his arm. "Well, I _was_ promised a lovely tour guide," he told her, and she glanced toward Charles, who just sort of shrugged apologetically.

It wasn't like he could exactly back her up, since he was headed off to a different hospital room. They were supposed to wake up Sinthea Schmidtt later that morning, and he was concerned about her mental state, especially because she hadn't gone _into_ the Games in exactly a stable state. Unlike with Tony and the other two that had been reanimated so far from this year's Games, Sinthea had been a killer and a member of a gang — and there was good reason for worry when it came to waking up anyone with pre-existence mental conditions like that. The Tahiti process… well. It wasn't exactly good for that kind of thing. Healing the body but not the mind — the physical but not the emotional. In fact, Tahiti tended to make some of that worse, just because of the trauma involved.

Basically, Charles would have his work cut out for him reintroducing her, though she wasn't quite as dangerous as some of the ones that were bound for isolation in Essex's side of the Tahiti operation if they woke up. Those… those were more an experiment in seeing if it was _possible_ to wake up the far-gone kind than anything else.

Why Charles thought Sin would be safe to reintroduce was a mystery, but Jan had only managed to hear the end of that particular argument with Essex. Out of the five 'criminal' types being brought back, Charles had managed to get two to come back with the main group. Apparently, Sin was one of those. But Jan hadn't been able to eavesdrop beyond that, because Essex pitched one of his fits and just swept off.

Jan liked having Charles around to tick of Essex. It was way entertaining.

She shook herself out of her thoughts as Charles told Tony that he would see him later, and she just took Tony by the arm and started him on the tour of the facility, beginning from the medical wing and then the training rooms, as usual.

"You probably won't spend much time here, honestly," Jan told him when she saw his dubious expression on being introduced to a room full of exercise mats and punching bags. "You'll probably be working with my husband, among other things."

"As long as it's not wrestling…" He shook his head with a bit of a smirk.

"No, it's much more up your alley," she promised him, though she didn't get to expound on that, as they'd hardly hit the hallway again before Charles caught up to the two of them again.

"I'm truly sorry to interrupt, Janet, but can I borrow you for a moment?" Charles asked.

Jan glanced at Tony and then at Charles, but at the look on the victor's face, she just had to nod. "Of course," she told him before she turned to Tony. "Sorry, but we'll have to finish this some other time. She pointed down the hall. "Turn right at the end of this hall, and the big double doors will take you to the cafeteria. I'll meet you there, and in the meantime, it might be good for you to meet some of the other kids in the program."

Tony frowned a bit as he glanced between Charles and Jan, but the expression only lasted for a moment before he just shrugged lightly. "Whatever you say, gorgeous," he said with a brilliant smile Jan's way and then headed off down the hall.

Charles and Jan watched him go for a moment, and when he was safely around the corner, Jan started to follow Charles back toward the medical wing. "He's taking this whole thing surprisingly well," Jan offered.

But Charles shook his head. "He isn't handling it at all," he countered with a sigh.

"Well, he's faking it pretty well," Jan said.

"That's not what we're asking from you," Charles said softly before he glanced at Jan. "Not anymore."

Jan just met his gaze and let out her breath. She was glad that they had Charles in a much larger capacity this year, but that didn't exactly change the fact that for three years, it had just been orders from on high, debriefings, and not really much in the way of help beyond training. Hank had been around for Jan for the nightmares, but after Cassie's near breakdown… and after Silver Fox...

Yes, she was definitely glad Charles was around.

"So, what's wrong?" Jan asked as they reached the medical wing.

Charles turned to face her with a small sort of frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Miss Schmidtt doesn't trust men," he said simply as he gestured into the room, where the young redhead was tied down at the wrists and ankles.

"I'm really not cut out for-"

"I know that you helped Miss Lang through the worst of her recovery from the trauma of the Games," Charles said gently. "I'm just asking you to try to do the same here. Just try."

Jan just sighed, knowing now that it was impossible for her to say no, because Charles was being reasonable and supportive again, before she gently pushed open the door to where Sin was still tied down and glaring.

"And who are you supposed to be?" the little ex-tribute from Six sneered her way.

"Jan," she said with a little wave and what she hoped was a friendly smile. "I was the first one to wake up in this program."

"So you know what it's like? They send you in here to get in my head?" Sinthea asked, sizing Jan up with a frown.

"I don't really know how to do that," Jan admitted. She reached over to pull up a seat closer to Sin, still frowning the slightest bit as she could see that Sin was almost continuously straining against the leather straps. "I just want to chat with you, I guess. I'm not really sure what I can do to help."

"Then you have no business being here," Sin shot back with a bit of a glare.

Jan let out a sigh and glanced toward the one-way mirror. She really wasn't cut out for this; what had Charles been thinking? But when the young ex-tribute just glared harder at her, Jan couldn't help but give it right back to the girl, a little annoyed at being stuck with someone who was going to be so rude about it.

"Actually," Jan said, jutting her chin out as she leaned back in her seat. "I've got nothing better to do. But you can keep making faces if it makes you feel better."

* * *

In the cafeteria, Cassie was telling Carol and Kurt all about the little gang of troublemakers in Twelve — and Kurt was honestly interested, as he recognized several of the names from the stories that Kate had told during the Games, while Carol just seemed enamored with the idea that she wasn't the only one who had been sneaking out past the district boundaries — when the newest member of their little group made his appearance by simply dropping into the seat next to Carol.

"Why weren't pretty blondes part of my tour?" Tony asked with a totally straight face as soon as he was seated — a bit too close to Carol.

"Because your tour was scenery, and scenery doesn't hit you when you look at it sideways," Carol said with a similarly straight face as Cassie giggled the slightest bit.

Tony turned toward her and blinked a few times. "Oh, I'm sorry, was that insulting somehow to point out that you're pretty? Because there is _nothing wrong_ with being pretty."

Carol turned his way and just smirked as she put out her hand. "Try starting with an introduction. Pretty blondes have names. Mine is Carol."

"Pleasure to meet you Carol," Tony said, taking her hand for a moment and frowning at the surprisingly strong grip the girl had. "Tony."

"Tony Stark, right?" Cassie piped up from across the table.

"Yep, that's me," he said with a bit of a tight smile. "And you are?"

"Cassie Lang," she said. "Sorry, I wasn't in your year so we haven't been introduced, but I've heard your name around the place."

"Yeah, if I had a quarter for every time someone said hello followed by 'I hoped you would have won,' I'd have … a lot of quarters," Tony said.

"You… must not talk to the same people I talk to," Cassie said sheepishly. "There's, like, a whole list of projects down here that I'm not qualified to take on yet, but they look _amazing,_ and everyone was really excited to have you around here to work on them."

"Oh, well. No, they haven't shown me anything yet," he replied with a little frown. "But … a little tinkering would be nice."

"Oh!" Cassie looked surprised. "I hope I didn't spoil anything for you. Some of it's really neat, honestly."

"No, no - it's nice to hear I have something to look forward to outside of Carol making it very clear she doesn't want to hold my hand," Tony said, and Carol just smirked the slightest bit at that.

"Well, if you listen to Cassie, there is also swimming and pool to look forward to," Kurt said with a small smile.

"Wow. Everything I've never dreamed of," Tony said with a falsely bright smile. "Time to adjust my expectations."

"It's really not so bad," Cassie said with a bit of a frown. "Really. It's getting better with more people."

"No, I know, I just … adjusting," Tony said lamely as he rolled his eyes a bit.

"It takes everyone a while to adjust," Kurt said kindly.

Tony just nodded. "Yeah, I figured as much," he said before he seemed to straighten up suddenly and change the subject entirely. "So. What killed you guys?" He had a little packet of granola that he was all but tossing into his mouth as he looked around at the group.

"Mutts for me," Cassie said. "Creepy bird things. Couple years back — you probably remember them."

"Yeah, those'll give you nightmares," Tony said with a nod before he looked over at Carol expectantly.

She held his gaze for a moment. "The Career pack."

Tony pulled a face and quickly looked toward Kurt. "What about you, big guy? What was it?"

"Tracker jackers," Kurt said without hesitating.

"Huh. Your little buddy did me in," Tony said. "Actually."

Kurt frowned the slightest bit but just had to nod quietly. "Yes, I was awake in time to see that in the recap. I'm sorry you had to make it to the end of the Games when the worst of what the Gamemakers were throwing at you came out."

"He's not here, by the way," Cassie put in helpfully, clearly hoping to sooth Tony. "He's the one that won."

"Of course he is," Tony said half under his breath. He shook his head for a moment and looked over the other three occupants of the table. "So, is this it?"

Cassie giggled at that. "Well, these two are the only ones from your Games, but there's me and then four more in the program," she said. "But — I mean, even with just you three, that's the max we've had from one Games. It's only ever been two or three per Games."

"So this _is_ it?" Tony asked, and he looked a little put out by the idea.

But Cassie just looked thoughtful and started to frown, shaking her head as her long blonde curls bounced over her shoulders. "No… It really sounded like they had plans for _way_ more people, not just one or two more than before. Jan was telling me that Hank had revolutionized the Genesis tubes…."

The other kids at the table just looked at her, clearly at a loss as to what she was going on about.

"Oh, those have something to do with how we came back. I'm still not up on all the details or how it all works, but… Hank wants to try to use them to heal people in the Tahiti program even after they've been reanimated," Cassie explained quickly. "It's one of the few things he and Dr. Essex agree on, especially after Mike got turned into pretty much a cyborg trying to piece him back together. The tubes are much better for healing than filling your head with electronics, even if the stuff they used for Mike is cutting edge."

Tony made a bit of a face and shook his head. "Sounds more like mad science than anything worth working on to me," he muttered.

"Yeah, I feel like that sometimes, too," Cassie admitted in what was almost a whisper. "But Hank says there are all kinds of uses for these advancements beyond just the Tahiti program — once we're not so secret, I mean."

"Yeah, that's part of what I have a problem with," Tony told her frankly. "Not a big fan of secret Capitol projects in secret labs with really creepy possible consequences."

For a moment, Kurt and Carol shared a look across the table. The two most recently awoken Tahiti operatives, besides Tony, were used to saying exactly that, though everyone in a position of power there — Charles or Essex or even the likes of some of the trainers like Matt Murdock, who taught hand to hand — seemed content to give the same assurances rather than answers.

It was for a good cause. They would understand soon enough. It was better for them not to know the whole plan yet because they needed to focus on getting themselves back to speed.

So, yes, they could definitely sympathize with Tony's frustration.

But Cassie had been in the program for two years now, and she was much less hesitant to spew back the platitudes that had been given her over and over. And what's more, she seemed almost desperate to make sure the newest reanimated kids from the Games were on board with the program, the gaping loneliness obvious in the way she was never far from any of them.

"It won't be a secret forever," Cassie said almost automatically. "Agent Coulson promised we'd get to go home once everything was over and done with — or wherever else we want to go. I'm _sure_ you could stay here and make sure all the tech goes to help people if you wanted to!"

"You really buy that?" Tony asked with a raised eyebrow Cassie's way, and Carol seemed to be in agreement with Tony, frowning and just shaking her head at the naive young girl at the table.

"I don't think — I mean… it has to work out," Cassie stuttered a bit, trying to explain herself. "Otherwise, this just sucks."

The other three kids seated at the table shared looks at that declaration before they shifted almost uncomfortably. The too-large cafeteria rang with silence for a moment except for the occasional clang of silverware until, finally, the door to the cafeteria opened, and Janet Van Dyne poked her head in and smiled warmly at the group of kids.

"How you guys doing down here?" she asked, and in response, she just got a few looks passed between the kids before they all responded with something like positive affirmation. "Sorry I had to bounce during our tour, Tony. Something came up — but I'm glad you got to talk to everyone!"

"Oh yeah. We're having the time of our afterlives over here," Tony said with a straight face.

Carol gave Tony a bit of a dry look, but Jan didn't seem to mind Tony's sarcasm. She shook her head and let out a breath. "Okay, come on, Tony. There's one more stop we need to make," she said in a friendly tone, though Tony saw Cassie give him the slightest of sympathetic looks, and he couldn't help but wonder what kind of _stop_ this was.

* * *

 _July 30_

 _Nathaniel Essex's Office_

* * *

Fury had been right about one thing and one thing only: Essex did need another warm body around, but only because the sped-up process had so many Tahiti operatives waking up at the same time that he would have had to be in two places at once to deal with so many new acquisitions the way he was used to.

There were other variables too, certainly. In particular, Essex knew he could use the lithe redhead from Two. He understood, of course, Fury's reasoning for bringing her back — the girl would make an excellent addition to the team regardless of whether they could reintegrate her. Solo missions and other assignments, with this girl, were still entirely possible.

But she was also from the Red Room, and before SHIELD could even _begin_ to deal with her, they would need to be rid of that organization's grip on her mind and her loyalties. That in itself would have taken Xavier months, whereas for Essex, the already-existent control would only make things easier for his own purposes, considering his other interests.

The two other recent acquisitions, Schmidtt and Darkholme, would also be interesting. Darkholme was easy enough — she had died early in the Games, and she had already shown that she had no love for the way things were run. The promise of power and challenging infiltration missions was all he needed to win something like her loyalty, for the moment. He'd already sent her name up to Sarkissian and would be keeping an eye on her.

Naturally, things were a bit more complicated with the Schmidtt girl. Of _course_ he could use her, and he already knew which pressure points he would work on, but there was the question of her father. He was loathe to spend too much time on a girl who would be of no use to him and his associates if Schmidtt himself refused to acknowledge her.

So, for the time being, he set aside the latest pending files and focused on the most recent one, the genius they woke up that morning. Here was a much simpler case. Arrogant, brash — but with one obvious, gaping weakness in the boy's heart.

Easy enough to twist the strings.

He hardly glanced up when Van Dyne led the young man into his office, as he had now moved on to reading over the latest reports from some of the nastier medical cases. Even a year ago, they would not have been able to save those who were that badly mutilated in the Games, but the preliminary reports were good. It would be fascinating to see how well the process held and if there were any ill psychological effects after the trauma their bodies had endured.

"Sorry about the delay," Janet called out cheerfully, but Essex waved his hand.

"I have plenty to keep me occupied," he said dismissively. He finally raised his gaze to study the dark-haired young man in front of him and wasn't surprised when Stark just lifted his chin to meet his gaze with a sort of defiance on being so examined.

The two of them sized each other up for a moment, but it wasn't until Janet left that Essex finally shifted the slightest bit, rearranging his files so that a certain one was at the very top. "I'm not going to bother going through the rote explanations with you. Unlike the others your age, I'm sure you can better grasp the realities of your situation," he said smoothly, his tone nearly business-like.

"Yeah, you guys killed me, pulled a Frankenstein, and now you'd like me to play Igor in your labs," Stark summed up with a bit of an edge to his tone. "Points for an imaginative kidnapping."

Essex paused and smirked Stark's way as he decided how to handle him. "That wasn't my doing — at least, not the choice to bring you here. I did have a hand in the process that brought you back, however." He leaned forward the slightest bit, his hands clasped together in front of him. "It's truly a fascinating process, one that we are constantly improving."

"I'm sure it is," Stark said, though he looked a little put off by the discussion. "Not really my thing, though. Biology, reanimation . . . I _am_ good with anatomy and playing God, though," he said with a bit of a smirk.

"I'd suggest you look through the research before you dismiss it so easily," Essex said in an almost bored tone. "Yes, there is a medical component to it, for which I and a few others were heavily consulted, but much of the strides currently being made are in the _technology_ used." His gaze brightened with an intensity behind his eyes as he watched Stark process that for a moment.

"My interest is more in the effects of this process and its potential uses beyond just reanimation," Essex said almost conversationally. "Before SHIELD asked me to help in their undertaking, I was a scientist and geneticist, and I admit, it would be fascinating to chronicle the uses of this process…" He trailed off and shook his head lightly as he looked up at Stark. "Ah, but maybe that's best left for another time."

"Thought you were supposed to be some kind of head shrink," Stark said with no small degree of suspicion as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's a simplification of my duties," Essex said with a derisive snort. "But, yes, one of the _many_ tasks I perform here is an evaluation of the Tahiti program's effect on your mental state."

"So you're a shrink."

Essex narrowed his eyes at the boy, something flashing just behind him before he cleared his throat again. "I have to admit, there are some concerns, Mister Stark," he said, his tone a bit more brusque than before. "I should note that we have a strict ban on alcohol on the premises until we can determine the effects of alcohol when mixed with the drugs that were used when we brought you back." He watched the frown settle over the young man's features before he added, "And there is some concern in your case after you so brilliantly self-destructed in the Games. It doesn't take anyone with nearly _my_ extensive training to see that you were affected by them."

Stark frowned at Essex, settling into a bit of a glare as he just pulled his arms tighter across his chest. "Yeah, it's like being murdered and forced to fight for your life every day up until that point might actually have an _impact_."

"I'm not saying it's not understandable. It's just a pity, really," Essex said with the slightest of tuts, shaking his head as he once more rearranged the files. "I'm sure Fury and SHIELD have ways to force your cooperation, but I _had_ hoped you would take an interest in the program for yourself, on your own, to use your creative mind to its fullest extent. There is a pressing time window for some of these cases, after all."

"Get to the point, Sigmund," Stark grumbled.

Essex smirked. "I wish I could tell you directly, but I'm not allowed to disclose the names of any of the former tributes being considered for the program, in case they don't survive the process. This is the first year the worst cases — or even some of the more complicated, let alone the worst — are even an _option_ , much less viable. Lacerations, mutilations… severed limbs, even. Tricky, but our technology _might_ be enough to bring them back."

Essex watched as the characteristically smart-mouthed boy went suddenly silent as the impact of his suggestion rang in his ears.

"I can't promise anything," Essex said with a sigh. "In previous years, we were barely able to save two or three tributes in each Games, and they were all _much_ less severely injured than many this year. But I could put in a word to Pym if you're interested. Personally, I think it might be best to put you to work immediately, give you something to do-"

"You said there was a time frame issue," Stark burst out, and Essex smiled to himself. It was almost too easy to bait the boy.

"It's the reason we've been unable to revive the most traumatic cases until now. Sometimes, their bodies simply reject the changes," Essex sighed sympathetically. "We're improving the process, but it really is the most critical in the first weeks. We lose so many that way."

"Okay, but … how traumatic are we talking about here?" Tony asked. "It's not like the freakin' knives through the chest were exactly something to cover with a band aid. How bad are the ones you're trying to get back?"

"Oh, stab wounds are nothing at all," Essex said, waving his hand.

"I respectfully disagree," Tony shot back with a bit of heat to his voice.

"Comparatively speaking," Essex said, shuffling the files once more as he pretended to think it over. "Surely you saw the mutts later in the Games. That creation that took down Peter Parker, for example — they were designed for carnage, not elegance," he said, pulling a bit of a face. "Not our best work."

"That doesn't make me feel any better about this, seeing as you _did_ make that thing — and now you want to tinker with _people_ like that? You can't tell me that … that _thing_ wasn't at least part of that psycho."

"It was an early attempt at the reanimation process before we found the Tahiti program. _This_ process is far more effective, whereas that… is nothing but a crude horror show."

"And it's stuff like that monster that makes me really reluctant to help you."

Essex let out a long sigh. "I understand," he said, shaking his head. "Really, I do. It's just a shame. Pym and Temple are struggling with some new process to reattach extremities without resorting to mechanical replacements, and I've done what I can to give my best medical advice, but the technology and methods simply don't exist yet, and our early test subjects so rarely survive." He shook his head. "It's a pity."

Tony thought he was following the man's trail of breadcrumbs, and he wasn't sure if he liked what he was alluding to. He narrowed his eyes and just stared at him for a moment. "Give me a name."

"That's far above what our dear director allows you access to," Essex said, though his eyes were glinting with amusement.

"I don't give a damn about what he wants me to access. If you want me to help, you need to give me something to work with."

Essex seemed to be thinking it over, though he'd already been planning it. "Why don't I show you some of the technical specifications?" he offered with a small smile. "There may be some names on the files that I neglected to cover properly."

Tony clearly didn't trust him, but he took a cautious step closer, his gaze never leaving the pale doctor's face until he was nearly on top of the files and specs.

The specs themselves weren't anything special, not yet. But when he saw 'Parker' on the manilla file, he just stopped. "Spider kid?"

"That was his given moniker in the Games, I think. I didn't pay much attention to the theatrics of it all," Essex said dismissively. "You mentioned before that we created a monster. Here is a chance for us to bring back the boy who lost his life to that… _thing_. In your defense, I understand."

"That's all very noble," Tony said, though he still didn't look convinced. "How do I know that this won't be used to just make more monsters?"

"The best way to prevent such a thing would be to involve yourself in it. I know from experience Fury will listen to someone _in_ the program more than someone who thinks himself above it," Essex said with a single raised eyebrow. "Of course, if you're not interested, we can always try again next year. Learn from these test cases and improve…"

"When do I start?" he asked, cutting Essex off before he could keep pitching.

Essex broke into a little smile. "Allow me to show you the labs."

* * *

 _July 31_

 _District Seven_

* * *

The sun had seemed to disappear a short while before the train pulled into the platform in District Seven. It wasn't raining like it had been when last Logan saw his home district, but it was incredibly foggy.

Something about the misty atmosphere was comforting, though Logan was frankly surprised at the turnout he'd gotten. More than that — he was surprised that here, the public in general was quietly shunning Creed.

Where the Capitol had made a point to lavish their affection and attention on all of the members that represented District Seven … the district itself did not. It appeared as though the citizens of Seven had known all along what Creed's tricks were, and they were not pleased in the least with the amount of credit he was taking for Logan's win. However, Logan's reputation in town had amazingly held out.

But while they were all quietly supportive, there was no cheering in the streets like they'd done in the Capitol. Still — the sensation was eerie. Most, if not all, of the district had turned out, and they had lined the street, parting as Mayor Beaubier led the way, grinning and talking toward the cameras on how proud they all were that they'd finally gotten a victor that had some honor.

The word caught Logan by surprise, and he just stared at the man for a moment as he continued talking. The town had made a big deal about the victory, and they were all celebrating — but once he'd been taken down to the large log cabin that was to be his new home, he simply stepped inside away from the cameras and crowds and ... stared. It was beautiful. But he had no interest in this place. Or in staying there.

But to go outside now, while they were all enjoying themselves, would just be encouraging them. So instead, he headed over to one of the cabinets to find that Smitty and the guys on the cutting crew had gone ahead and stocked the place for him with a couple cases of whiskey as a congratulations.

The wolverine pelt that he'd gotten off the trap line three years ago was laying across the back of the couch in the living room. Apparently, Smitty had managed to get it from his tent before it was scavenged.

Logan took a bottle from the case and sat down heavily in the chair that looked out over a lake at the bottom of the ravine outside his window as he just started drinking.

It was well past dark when he decided in his stupor that he needed to leave. He stepped outside of the cabin, less than half a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He fully intended to find a way to slip out of the fence, though he knew that in his current state, he wouldn't make it over using the tree branches.

He didn't make it far enough to find out how, though, as not even halfway down the road that led to the cut, a now-familiar voice rang out in the night.

"Where you think you're goin', Runt?"

Logan glared into the darkness, too drunk to know for sure which way the voice was coming from, but he didn't bother to answer Creed before he just continued on his way. He didn't care what Creed thought, and he didn't have to answer to him at all. He blew him off with a wave and a huff, but that was clearly a mistake as the creep came out of nowhere, and with a hard left hook, Logan was on the ground.

When he woke up again, it was to someone dabbing a cold cloth to his cheekbone. He was back in his new cabin, laid out on his bed, and Heather Hudson, the Sentinel's wife, was trying to clean up the damage. He reached up and grabbed her wrist and just glared at her for a moment.

"What did you think you were _doing_?" she demanded of him as soon as she saw that he was awake enough for a conversation, though she didn't seem to expect much of an answer

"Walking," he replied as he let go of her wrist and just closed his eyes again.

"Before that," she said. "You were so drunk… Logan, do you know how much cleaning up I did when I came back here? Do you even _remember_ last night?"

"No one said you had to do anything," he said quietly.

"Like I was going to let you sit in that mess," Heather said, waving him off.

"Even when it's dry, blood and mud'll just wash off, Heather," he said in a tired tone.

"You're a _mess_ ," she said. "Not just your clothes and your… everything. You're a _mess_!"

"What did you expect?" he asked in an almost angry tone.

"You can't do _this_ ," she countered. "I know you're upset, but you - you don't just do _this_. I'm sorry about what happened to your friend, Logan, I really am, but you can't just do this. Not again. I won't let you do that to yourself."

He frowned at her for a moment at that. "Again?" he asked, frowning deeper. "You don't buy that crap, do you?"

"About you being like that creep across the way? Of course not," she said, sounding supremely insulted.

"No. well. That too," he said with a sigh. "There was _nothing_ going on with Kate. At all."

She patted his arm consolingly. "I know. I know you were a perfect gentleman, no matter what they said."

"Oh, knock it off," he grumbled, pulling away from her. "I ain't that much of a gentleman. There wasn't _anything_ going on. Either way. It's a damn story. Half the shots they showed was her looking at Kurt, and the rest were out of context."

"You can't tell me you're not — Logan, I haven't seen you drink this much since _last_ year's Games. You've got _Mac_ worried!"

" _I didn't drink this much then_ ," he defended in a hiss, though he knew it was a weak argument even as he said it.

"That's not a real good defense to take with me right now," she shot back. "You're drinking even _more_ now? What is _wrong_ with you? Do you enjoy getting sucker-punched in the middle of the night when you're too drunk to see it coming? Is that it?"

"I saw it coming," Logan said, letting out a breath. "It was Creed. I was kinda hopin' he'd just kill me and have to pay for it," Logan said half-seriously.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she repeated, horrified and wide-eyed as she smacked him in the arm. "Don't _do_ things like that! Or say things like that! Don't — just _don't_."

"Take it easy," Logan said with a deeper frown. "Hard to believe, but I don't think he's quite that stupid. And I'm not going anywhere."

"That's right you're not," Heather said with a bit of a glare as she crossed her arms over her chest. She gave him a serious once-over. "You'd better stay cleaned up when you come by for dinner tonight."

"I'm not coming by," he argued.

"Yes you are," she shot back. "And you're coming every Sunday until you stop giving me a _heart attack_ every time you leave the house!"

"If you lay off the coffee and mind your own damn business, we can get this over with right now," he countered with a glare.

"Well that's just not happening, so you're just going to have to come over. Dinner is at six."

"Sure," he said, clearly planning to ignore her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Six o'clock. And if you try to avoid me, I swear to God, Logan, I'll get _mad_."

He just shooed her with his hands, not saying another word and already planning on where he could be that wasn't Heather and Mac's place or there in the cabin.


	5. The Calm After the Storm

**Notes: Yeah, Essex is basically just the definition of creepy. Seriously, look it up in the dictionary and there he is. All sinister-ed up and with his stupid dramatic cape. Ugh. He's such a horrible bad guy, so of course, we had to use one of the creepiest, most manipulative X-Men villains for our un-dead portion of the story ;)**

 **Expect more Alpha Flight. That is your Canadian spoiler for the time being. This Heather (and Mac) are a little bit tweaked to be as awesome as I remember them being when I was a kid. - CC**

 **And also. HELLO MIRAN. Pay attention to who is in this chapter because some brilliance can only be done by the correct authors. So glad you're in this with us. This collab is better for having you *mwuah***

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Calm After The Storm**

* * *

 _August 1_

 _Triskellion_

* * *

The victors were back to their own districts, and the parties were all over. _Finally_.

Skye hadn't thought it was possible to be this tired, but here she was, still sitting in her bed and half trying to get swallowed up in the blankets. She hadn't really bothered to change much when she got back, just pulled off her dress and passed out, so she'd been sure to hang a 'do not disturb' sign on the door.

She was glad she had the foresight, somehow, in her haze of exhaustion, to do that, too, because she realized now that the reason she was even awake at all was that she could hear someone knocking, and she sat up just a bit — enough to check and make sure she was covered so that no one saw her in her underwear if it was urgent enough they thought they had to break in.

That _had_ happened, too. Not the underwear part, but Ward had come bursting in during a security alert - which turned out to be a false alarm anyway. Hadn't even apologized, and he actually looked like he'd enjoyed the sight of her in her pajamas, which she really… .really wasn't sure what to do with.

"Who is it?" she asked sleepily.

"It's Agent Coulson," came the reply, which had her sitting up and trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes and her voice.

"What's up?" she asked before she added quickly, "Don't come in. I'm not decent."

"Don't worry, I won't," he assured her from the other side of the door. "But when you're ready, I have something I need to show you."

Skye could already feel her interests piquing at that, and she quickly pulled on her clothes, grabbing some jeans from the chair by her bed and a tee shirt from her dresser before she ran a quick brush through her hair. She quickly put on a bit of lipstick, too, because in a pinch, that would at least look like she'd made an effort — you know. In case she needed to meet anyone important.

She pocketed some mascara as well with the resolve to find a bathroom if they were going somewhere fancy.

When she did poke her head out the door, Coulson was just leaned against the wall with his arms folded, looking entirely relaxed. "Sorry to wake you," he said. "But now that all the Games work is through — for the moment — I think it's just about time you saw what all your hard work was for."

Skye raised both her eyebrows. "I thought all that hard work was for the _Games_."

But Coulson just gave her one of those infuriating 'that's what you think' smirks that Skye had come to expect whenever she was about to find out something else about SHIELD.

They stopped by the lab after Skye's bedroom, and Fitzsimmons were working on something already, even this early in the morning, speaking in their usual sentence fragments.

"We'll have to improve—"

"But we don't want it to be too much," Fitz interrupted Simmons.

She reached over to scribble something on the files he was using. "No, no, but we have to consider—"

He waved her off. "Yeah, but we have to balance—"

"But if we do that—"

"Maybe if we…" Both of them trailed off their nonsensical conversation when they saw Coulson and Skye, and the two of them glanced at each other before they broke into little grins.

"Oh, are we doing the secondary tour this morning?" Simmons asked, her hands clasped in front of her as she bounced on the balls of her feet — and from her tone, it was clear that she knew exactly what was going on, which kind of made Skye a little jealous, if she was being honest.

"Graduation day?" Fitz asked, the same sort of knowing expression on his face that had Skye wanting to smack both of them.

But Coulson just smirked and nodded at the two scientists. "Do you two want to come? You've both put more work into the project than anyone else on the team."

"Of course!" Fitz said as if this was the stupidest question Coulson had ever asked.

"Oh, you're going to be so impressed," Simmons promised Skye, her eyes positively shining with anticipation of the reveal.

Skye just looked between the two lab rats and Coulson and had to shake her head. "Okay, whatever it is must really be good," she said at last, and both Fitz and Simmons just broke into wide, beaming smiles as the group of them followed Coulson down.

As it turned out, Skye wasn't disappointed as they made their way down, as the further down they got, the more the security measures were downright intimidating. There were retina scans, coded locks — and three different armed guards stopped the group to question them as they passed through.

One of the guards, a big, hulking guys who had probably been a bouncer in another life — or even this one before SHIELD found him — gave Skye a very obvious once-over before giving Coulson back his ID after he'd given that day's password.

"She hasn't been down here before," the guy said as he stepped aside to let Coulson pass but stood in front of Skye for a while longer, even going so far as to pat down her pockets.

"I'm introducing her to the program," Coulson said, not making a move otherwise to help Skye despite the fact that she was giving him a _face_. "Expect to see her more often."

When the guard was satisfied that Skye was unarmed, Coulson then handed him an ID, which he then gave to Skye on Coulson's instructions after he'd inspected it, and Skye raised her eyebrows at the temporary pass that identified her as a 'consultant.'

There were still several more layers of security after that before they finally reached the entrance, and Coulson turned back to look at Skye. "The techs and medics are in full swing down here, so try not to get in anyone's way," he said with a sort of sparkle in his gaze before the little group came through into a hallway.

Skye wasn't sure what the big deal was as they passed what looked like a normal training area - even if it _was_ way more decked out than she was used to — and made their way into a medical area, though when they went through a door in the far back, past the normal medical stuff, she very nearly had to scrape her jaw off of the floor at what she saw in the secret rooms.

She _recognized_ the people floating in tubes, with various wires and other devices hooked up to them as they were suspended in the yellowish-green fluid. Some of them, like Steve Rogers, seemed like they were more or less in stasis, looking fairly banged up and like they'd just been brought straight from the Games to these tubes.

Others, like Natasha Romanoff and Raven Darkholme, looked like they were just sleeping, suspended in the greenish liquid with hardly any marks of what they'd been through in the Games, the leads and wires on their tubes monitoring their heart rate and the oxygen levels in their blood.

And there was someone else, too, who was currently being operated on, though Skye was glad that, whoever it was, they were hidden behind a curtain as well as behind some serious glass as they worked, because she wasn't quite sure her stomach could handle actually watching… they were bringing tributes back from the _dead_!

As Skye leaned against the wall, one hand on her stomach, Fitz grinned over at Simmons. "If she boots, I win."

Skye fixed both of them with a glare even as she felt Coulson place a hand on her shoulder. "Do you need—"

"I'm _fine_ ," she said through her teeth, trying to straighten up a bit and look a little less green. "Are… are all of them…?" She took a deep breath. "Is _everyone_ coming back?"

Coulson glanced at Fitzsimmons before he just had to shake his head. "We can't do that. Even bringing back as many as we want to this year is going to be a stretch, and we're still not sure we can do it."

"How many?" she croaked out, her mouth suddenly dry.

"We're shooting for around a dozen."

Skye just glanced over at him, wide-eyed. "You … you can't be serious… have you been doing this _every Games_?"

"Successfully? Only for the past four Games," Coulson admitted. "But the process is getting better every year, and Dr. Essex has really pulled out a breakthrough for us. The main limitations on our progress now are strictly material- and technology-related. The medical side of this whole thing has been nothing short of a miracle."

Skye gaped just a bit. "Ah, when you say 'material limitations'..."

"There are some very rare elements involved in the process." Simmons chuckled at Skye's expression and shook her head quickly. "Don't worry, they're not Frankenstein monsters. Dr. Essex isn't out scavenging for parts in graveyards, although..."

"Who's—"

"The really tall, really creepy guy working over there," Fitz told Skye at a whisper before she could finish her question, tipping his head over at where the surgery was still going on. Even behind the curtain, she could see the tall figure, and she frowned a bit.

"He's actually quite the genius," Simmons added with a little encouraging nod. She bit her lip and paused before she leaned forward. "He's just not very personable."

"And he's helped us get to a point where we can attempt to bring back even some more difficult cases," Coulson said, tipping his head at the tube holding Natasha. "If you'll recall, Miss Romanoff was crushed to death in an avalanche. Last year, we wouldn't have been able to help her."

Skye took a steadying breath as she looked toward the tube he'd indicated, though she couldn't look for too long before she felt a little queasy, and she quickly refocused on her boss. "And this year you can?"

"Yes," Coulson said. He looked toward the tube. "We're just observing her to make sure her body doesn't reject, well, everything we've just done to her in the past few weeks."

Skye raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot."

"I'm aware." Coulson just raised an eyebrow at her for a moment before he gestured toward the door to the other room where the surgery itself was taking place. "Do you want to see-"

" _No_." She took a step back and held up both hands to emphasize her point. "No, I'm good thanks."

Coulson just nodded his understanding and watched her for a moment. "I'm sure you have some questions," he began, but at the opening, she couldn't wait any longer.

"Yeah, like _why_ ," she broke in, shaking her head. "I mean…. _why_?"

"Why bring them back?" Coulson asked with a raised eyebrow and a slight frown. "Or why kill them in the first place? Why…? I've heard them all, Skye. Where do you want to start?"

She just stared at him openly and leaned heavily against the wall as Simmons rushed over, looking a bit concerned. "Have a seat. Put your head between your knees," Simmons tried to tell her, but Skye waved her off.

"What is the _point_ here?" Skye demanded of Coulson. "What… what _is_ this place?"

Coulson let out a little sigh and waited for Skye to look a little less like she might pass out before he said, "This is the Tahiti Program. And as you can probably guess, it's the best-kept secret in all of SHIELD."

"Yeah. I figured that out on my own, thanks," Skye said, still staring around at the tubes and the wires and the… everything.

Coulson waited again for Skye to bring her attention back to him before he patiently explained, "This is why we wanted to bring you on to help with tribute selection."

"You… you wanted help picking people to bring back," she said, gaping at him.

"Yes — and people who would make the Games something that would capture Thanos' interest so he doesn't look too hard at what we're doing here."

"Which you still haven't told me. Not _really_."

"I was getting there," Coulson promised with a little smile. He took in a breath and held it. "Skye, it's no secret that the president isn't fit to lead anything. At all. But it's difficult to organize a revolution when he's also paranoid and has anyone with an original thought killed."

"Yeah, I noticed. I got the speech. Ra, ra, we're not like the rest of the Capitol here at SHIELD," Skye said, twirling her finger to illustrate the point before she swept her arm out at the tubes, which she still couldn't look at for too long. "So what about these kids? I mean. You killed them and brought them back for… what? Fun?"

Coulson shook his head. "Cerebro has been helping us find kids like these, kids who are fighters. Even if we'd waited until the revolution itself, they'd be the kind of fighters who would probably join our cause, so we're bringing them here to give them the proper training and tools they need — the kind of thing they _wouldn't_ get in the districts." He leaned forward as he added, "And they have one advantage that no other SHIELD agent could possibly have. Everyone thinks they're dead. No — everyone _knows_ they're dead."

"That's because they _are_ ," Skye pointed out, gesturing at the tubes with tributes who hadn't been patched up neat and clean like Natasha and some of the others, the ones who still looked pretty much exactly like they had when the transports picked them up. The Games had left horrible marks on each of them, and no matter how that was patched up, they were still _dead_. They'd still _died_. How could he be so _calm_ about this?

"It's not a perfect system, Skye. But Thanos will have his Games no matter what, and for many of these kids — they'd be killed before they reached adulthood anyway," Coulson admitted quietly. They're what Thanos would consider dangerous."

"So you got to them first?" Skye raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing the 'magnanimous SHIELD' angle at _all_.

"I told you it's not a perfect system," Coulson said with a sigh. "But this way, we can give them a second chance at living, and SHIELD has fighters to help with its revolution." He fixed Skye with an open look. "It wasn't my idea, but it's what we can do with the resources we have."

"It's nuts."

"Yes, that might just be an accurate assessment," Coulson agreed.

"It's … you are literally raising an army from the dead, Coulson!" She threw her arms up, just… _done_ with this nonsense, though Coulson hardly looked fazed, as usual.

"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes." He gave her a little smile. "That makes them a bit more terrifying, though, doesn't it?"

She just shook her head at him. "This whole thing is crazy. It's - this is just _wrong_."

"Would you prefer we just let 24 kids die every year?"

"Well, no," she had to admit. "But this…."

Coulson just gave her a warm smile. "Why don't we go back upstairs and get some breakfast? You're not authorized to speak with any of the operatives yet, but after all your help on Cerebro and during the Games, I told Fury you deserved to know just what you were working on."

"Thanks," she muttered. "I think."

He just put a hand on her shoulder. "I know it's not ideal, Skye, but I promise, we're working on it. Once we get things going, once we're able to move forward with the revolution we have planned, there won't be _any_ Avenger Games, and no reason to have to use any of … this." He gestured at all the equipment around them.

She just shook her head at him, her stomach still somewhere in the vicinity of her shoes. This… this was going to take some time to process, and they both knew it.

Simmons was the one to take her by the hand, though, and start to pull her back the way they'd come. "Come on. You did better than Fitz did — he _did_ lose his lunch," she told Skye kindly. "Let's get you back upstairs before I lose my bet, yes?"

Skye couldn't help but smile at her friend and just sort of nod. "Yeah… that… that would probably be good."

* * *

 _August 2_

 _Nathaniel Essex's Tahiti Office_

* * *

Essex was in what could be considered, for him, a good mood.

He hadn't exactly been pleased with the arrangement he had been forced into with Charles Xavier, but he _had_ been granted much more leeway with some of the former tributes — those that were considered too dangerous to be integrated with the others. An entirely separate wing, in fact. It was small consolation to losing the control he'd had over all of the previous tributes, but he did have less oversight in his wing as well… He would just have to make the most of it.

Even under the old rules, for most of the former tributes who came back in the Tahiti program, the process was relatively open for as secretive and tightly regulated as it _had_ to be in order to exist. There were a few, however, that simply could _not_ be allowed that same luxury of freedom of movement or much of a chance for social reintegration. These were considered the more "dangerous" tributes and would be kept either entirely separate from the rest of the Tahiti operatives or at least kept under lock and key until it was considered "safe" to reintroduce them.

Essex didn't expect to reintegrate any of those under his care, however. Instead, he fully intended to make sure that they remained on this side of the operation — experts in infiltration, spywork, and assassination. No need to involve them in Fury and Coulson's little group of "heroes," for which there were more plans than simple missions.

What's more, plenty of these tributes were considered to be dangerous to not only their handlers but themselves, so there was no warm hospital bed and smiling tour guide when they woke up. Yes, they were still in medical suites, medical equipment and monitors hooked in, but tributes who woke up in this side of the program were restained — some more tightly than others — to prevent injury to themselves and to the staff.

The first of these had woken up this morning — Miss Darkholme — and he would be working with the second the following morning. But to Essex' delight, the girl was easy enough to deal with once she was awake. She understood the structures of power and the fact that she had nowhere to go now that she was officially 'dead,' and he was just finishing up his report to Fury stating that they could begin to send her on more covert assignments within a few weeks, pending a full physical recovery, when he noticed the time — he was expecting one of the 'usual' Tahiti crowd in his office soon.

Kurt Wagner was one of Xavier's — that much had been obvious since the boy woke up. He was surprisingly well-adjusted, though that could be attributed to his death being earlier in the Games, and thus far the only problems they'd had with him were related to a general sense of being homesick and feeling trapped — which were common problems to every single one of the children they brought back, regardless of whether or not they were assigned to the high security lockdown.

But with the children he was seeing on the pending schedule to join the rest of the Tahiti program over the next few days and weeks, Essex could already see a potential problem with the young man — entangling alliances, the remnants of the Games still clinging to his loyalties.

Beyond being asked to play psychiatrist for these young operatives — Essex's original purview had been the Tahiti process itself, and before he'd gone to see Raven to tell her exactly how her new life was going to play out — he had been working with Pym, McCoy, and Richards on the remaining former tributes who needed to be revived. He knew exactly which children would be coming back, and in what order — and that, at least, gave him the time to properly prepare.

He turned his attention back to his medical notes as he waited for his next appointment. Thus far, all of the reanimated children had simple injuries. Most of them were stab wounds, though Sinthea Schmidt's snapped neck had been slightly more substantial. But now — with some of the more complex cases, the improvements and breakthroughs he had been able to spearhead in the past months were finally paying off.

In the case of Natasha Romanoff, who was recovering nicely in one of those Genesis tubes — Essex was honestly pleased with the work they had done with her. It took some doing to put her back together, considering the mountain that had fallen on her, but their success with her had already given them high hopes for some of the even worse cases, such as those that had been in the Final Four.

And with Stark working away nicely on refining the process and technology itself, already they were making quick strides. Perhaps not this year but maybe the next they could even go so far as to save tributes as far gone as Eleven's boy, T'Challa, who had been nearly decapitated by Thor's hammer, his skull crushed and his brain affected… that would have been an interesting experiment, but Fury had decided it would be a waste of resources that were better allocated elsewhere. For the time being.

Still, that meant the tributes they were currently working on included one Katherine Bishop, and Essex knew better than to leave it to chance just what kind of interaction she and Kurt would have upon her awakening. She had been emotionally damaged during the Games - vulnerable and easily manipulated. Easy to control. It would be simpler, for his own purposes to keep her in that state if possible — he wanted to send her name to Sarkissian… but there was the Wagner boy to consider. If those two were allowed too much time together, he might very well lose her to Xavier. She was far easier to control if she was alone, isolated, and while he hadn't been able to convince those in charge that he needed to isolate her from the others because of the break she'd had in the Games — though he _did_ try — he could at least put some distance between her and Wagner.

While initially, Essex had been against allowing Kurt to watch the interview, he was now glad Xavier had already done part of his work for him. Xavier had likely hoped that Kurt would be able to see Logan's state and at least have some idea of what was happening with his friend — perhaps even provide help in the form of advice. No one had been expecting the interview to go the way it did, but Essex could see that beyond his concern for his friend, the boy had been shaken by the Capitol's lies.

There were doubts, and he could use those. Too many of these children found themselves under Xavier's tutelage, and that meant his power in the program was waning. That could not be allowed to stand.

When Kurt arrived, Essex called for him to come in, and the boy sat down across from him, looking, as always, a bit wary. Xavier's doing, he was sure.

Essex just smiled the slightest bit. "How are you feeling?" he asked, and he was genuinely interested in the answer, to measure the young man's mental state after only a week of reanimation — he was keenly interested in the process itself, after all. He could play tug-of-war with Xavier all he wanted, but first and foremost, he was a scientist.

"Less tired than before," Kurt said honestly, though he was regarding Essex with a slight frown. Clearly, the boy didn't trust him — though he had taken to Xavier like a fly to honey.

"And your training?" Essex pressed. "I understand you have been assigned to work with Matt Murdock for the time being."

Kurt nodded with the beginnings of a smile. "Yes — I met him a couple days ago. He seems like a good trainer, and I like working with him."

"I've read his notes — he seems to think you are in excellent form for how long you've been awake," Essex agreed, and Kurt looked pleased at the compliment, though he just shook his head the slightest bit.

"I'm still working on making it through the day without having to sit down for a break now and again," he admitted with a sheepish smile.

"All in good time," Essex said, knowing full well just how much work had been put into the Tahiti process and how devastating its effects could be on the body. Most of the Tahiti operatives took at least a week or two to even feel back to their old selves, let alone begin to train to a point where Fury could use them — it was one of the major obstacles to bringing the more damaged cases back, as their bodies still had to recover from the trauma of the Games as well as the surgeries that brought them back, and he would be keeping a close eye on the more complex cases to see how they recovered compared to the simpler ones.

When Kurt just nodded quietly, his hands folded in his lap as he politely waited to get through the session, Essex gave him a bit of an appraising look before he asked, "And how are you getting along with Miss Danvers and Mister Stark? I understand all three of you have entirely different focuses, but I wonder if you've been able to spend any time with them?"

Kurt shrugged lightly. "Carol is nice," he said. "She loves training and flying, so I don't see her around often — though the same goes for Tony. He's always locked away in his workshop. I don't think he comes out for more than coffee," he added with a deep frown.

Essex's expression didn't change, though he wasn't surprised to hear Kurt's assessment. Stark had been easy enough to control, to keep focused. It was nice to know his efforts were bearing fruit, though. "And you seem to be close with Miss Lang," Essex observed, pressing him further, trying to measure his existing alliances.

"I've found it's impossible _not_ to get along with Cassie," Kurt said with the slightest of smirks.

Essex nodded at that. "That wasn't always the case," he said seriously, and he could see that he'd gotten Kurt's attention when the young man raised his eyebrows and leaned forward a bit. "Unfortunately, not everyone that we bring back in this program comes back as well-adjusted as you have, Mr. Wagner."

Kurt frowned for a long moment but just started to nod a bit. "I guess everyone's Games experience is different," he said softly.

"That's true," Essex agreed. He paused and looked pensive for a moment. "You are aware, of course, that we're hoping to bring back more than just yourself, Mr. Stark, and Miss Danvers."

Kurt nodded, and Essex could see just the slightest spark of hopefulness that always flared up whenever this topic of conversation came up. "I know Cassie mentioned something like that, and Tony's been working with you and the others," he said carefully.

"Everyone is doing their part," Essex agreed. He let out a breath and looked toward Kurt for a moment. "And in that regard, I would like to ask you a small favor." He watched Kurt struggle to school his expression for a moment before he continued. "You died early enough that the worst of the psychological torture did not touch you. The same cannot be said for those that found themselves out of the running later. I would very much like to be able to rely on you to be the one to keep things …. calm."

Kurt frowned a bit at that but nodded all the same. "Yes, I saw the footage from the interviews," he said in a guarded tone.

Essex smiled almost kindly. "Yes, I read Xavier's notes on your experience with that — it must have been a shock for you to find out so much in that manner, so quickly."

"I'm just glad I know now," Kurt said, though Essex could see in his tone and expression that he was still unsure of the whole situation — Xavier's attention on helping the Schmidt girl meant he hadn't had the time to address what the Capitol had said about the Games as clearly as he likely wanted to. Not to mention the man's duties in the Capitol — he was busy, and that left Essex with openings he could exploit.

"I was against showing you anything from the Games, I should tell you," Essex said, knowing that honesty would help the young man to better trust him. "Especially so soon after you woke up; normally, the policy is to ease you into that sort of thing. There is so much danger with a shock like that, especially after the trauma you endured just before the Tahiti process itself, which is strenuous on even milder cases than yours."

"No — I wanted to know," Kurt insisted, and Essex just nodded slowly.

"At any rate," he said with a bit of a sigh, "it's good that you saw what you did, considering some of the names I'm seeing cross over my desk." He waited for the glint of hope in the young man's gaze that always accompanied any discussion of future Tahiti participants before he looked a bit stern. "Mr. Wagner, you are in a unique position to have seen so much of the end of the Games — so I don't need to tell you that there are deep-seated concerns. Some of these children were horribly damaged, physically, emotionally, _and_ psychologically."

Kurt just nodded quietly, and Essex leaned a bit further forward. "I can't stress this enough, Mr. Wagner. Some of these children may come back in incredibly delicate states. And I have to ask you not to do _anything_ that might upset that balance." He waited for Kurt's reaction, but when the young man just seemed to wait for more, Essex adjusted the files in front of him for a moment. "Regardless of your previous alliances — I have to ask you to tread softly. Reminders of the Games, of the trauma you all endured, triggers of that kind of psychological torment, betrayals of the worst kind — this could set some of the more delicate cases back _years_ if we aren't careful."

Kurt frowned and looked down to his hands. "I wouldn't do anything to disturb my friends," he said quietly.

Essex nodded. "And yet, it may be that even your presence could trigger something. Some of your friends were witness to your death, and even those who were not were affected by it." He took in a deep breath. "I'm asking you to keep your distance if and when we're able to bring back those that you allied with in the Games. Don't upset what little mental balance they may have this soon after the torture they endured."

Kurt seemed to understand in a moment, and he took in the slightest of breaths as he just nodded. "I'll … thank you for telling me this. I don't want to cause any harm," he replied earnestly. "I won't press anyone." With that, Essex leaned back, satisfied.

"I appreciate the help."

Kurt nodded and started to stand up. "However, if they come to me, I will not turn them away."

"Nor should you," Essex said, though he had the slightest of frowns at that. "I'm simply urging caution."

Kurt almost scoffed. "Of course. I would never … I -"

"You are fifteen, Mr. Wagner. You'll have to excuse me if I feel I have to remind you, even if you are refreshingly mature for your age, that not every impulse is to be acted on. I do remember how it is at that age."

Kurt looked a bit confused by what he thought was meant to be a compliment and instead of making the situation worse, he simply nodded. "Is that all you wanted to discuss, doctor?"

"For the moment," Essex said with a nod. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Wagner."

* * *

 _August 3_

 _Tahiti Hangar_

* * *

Carol was surprised when she arrived at the hangar to find that she wasn't the only one waiting there — though Cassie wasn't looking toward the door James Rhodes was expected to come through to start up his lessons with Carol. She was looking toward the big hangar doors.

"Who're you waiting for?" Carol asked the much younger blonde, who jumped a bit, though she grinned when she saw it was Carol.

"My friend Luke," she said. "He's been out for _ages_ since Mike got captured on a mission, trying to make up for missing — well. Basically one half of the eligible fighters in the program," she explained, and though her tone was light, it was obvious that Cassie was concerned about her friend.

Carol looked toward the big hangar doors and let out a bit of a sigh before she turned her attention to Cassie. "Well, I've been up for a week and a half. Maybe I can help make up for the slack," she said with a little smile.

But Cassie just shook her head, though she was smiling. "Thanks for the offer, but now that the Games are over and all the parties are done, he's coming back for good — at least for a while. That's how it went last year, too — we lay low after the Games, because we run a _lot_ of missions under the cover of all that hooplah."

Carol nodded her understand but still kept half an eye on Cassie. "Mind if I wait with you?" she asked.

"Oh, please," Cassie said, nodding with a wide and almost eager smile.

Carol tipped her head at the younger girl and watched her for a moment. Cassie had been open about the fact that she had been one of the first awake, a test subject, even, to see if even the youngest bodies could handle the invasive process. But what she didn't say was how lonely she was — that much she said instead with the fact that she gravitated toward the three newcomers almost desperately.

But Carol wasn't sure what she could do or say to counteract what she knew had to have been a rough experience, being thrust into the program at age twelve and having to carve out a space for herself when she was too young to fight and too uneducated to help with the science and technical part of things, though Carol knew she was trying to catch up on that front. And Carol had seen her around the hangar with the other pilot, a man named John Wraith, who Rhodey said was a good instructor for when he had to be in the Capitol on victor's duties. So clearly, Cassie was trying to do what she could.

And yet Carol could see the open longing on Cassie's face as she stared toward the hangar door. The shorter girl wanted to do more.

"Have you tried telling Charles, or anyone else, that you want to get out there?" Carol asked as she leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, just watching the hangar door with the little blonde girl.

Cassie smiled a bit. "Oh, I get to go out sometimes. Stuff that they don't think is too dangerous, or things when need someone who _looks_ like a kid, or sometimes I can pilot if it's _safe_ ," she admitted with a bit of a disparaging sigh. She gave Carol a sideways look as she added, "I think I can convince Charles to sign off on letting me go more often, though, because, I mean, Kurt's only a year old than me, so I should be old enough to get out there and fight, right? That's what they want _him_ to do!"

Carol had to nod at that. Even here, men were getting the nod before women. She would certainly bring that up in her next session with Xavier. "You should tell them that."

"Yeah, I will," Cassie agreed before the two of them fell into silence once more as they waited for Luke to get back from wherever he had gone.

But it was finally Rhodey who arrived, before Luke, and he strolled into the hangar grinning at Carol before he seemed to notice Cassie there too. The smile he gave the shorter girl was much more amused. "Hey, Cassie. Who's breaking curfew on you this time? Mike or Luke?"

Cassie shrugged his way, though there was no mistaking the little smirk at the suggestion that she was in charge of the much older boys — which, Carol suspected, was probably entirely true. "Mike's still stuck with the geek squad getting all his gears and stuff checked out," Cassie explained.

"So Luke then," Rhodey surmised. "When's he due back?"

"Any minute now," Cassie said, and her excitement was palpable.

"Nice. Want us to wait with you?" Rhodey asked, though he almost needn't have asked, because as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the hangar doors started to open, meaning there was a craft approaching.

As soon as the hovercraft had landed, Cassie rushed over with a wide grin, ready to greet Luke the moment he stepped out. She dashed past Agent Coulson, who had just arrived to take Luke to his debriefing.

Carol hadn't met Coulson in person yet — she knew that he had an office in the program and that he was usually the one to do the assignments and missions, so she had only heard his name around the place. But what she heard was all good, and Rhodey seemed to like him just fine.

Carol herself wasn't so sure. It was hard to tell anything about him, because he seemed to keep his emotions close to his chest, and his expression was maddeningly inscrutable — right up until she caught the little smile he couldn't quite hide when Cassie dodged in front of him and nearly bowled Luke over to give him a hug.

Carol hadn't met Luke Cage yet, either, but she instantly liked him when she saw the way he melted as soon as Cassie had her arms around his neck and the way he pulled her into a spinning hug with a wide grin.

"If I didn't know better, Cas, I'd say you missed me," he teased her with a warm laugh.

"Shut up and hug me," she shot back, giggling the slightest bit when he did just that, spinning her around before he just took her under his arm, and he kept her half tucked there as the two of them followed Coulson down the hall toward Coulson's office — while Cassie caught Luke up on everything that he'd missed while he was out doing, well, whatever it was that SHIELD wanted them to do.

"He's been looking out for her since he woke up, pretty much," Rhodey said to Carol when the two Tahiti kids were gone. "Basically made it his mission to make sure the kid stayed, well, relatively safe anyway."

"Yeah, it looks like they adopted each other," Carol said, her gaze on the hallway where the two of them had disappeared before she turned back to Rhodey with a little smile. "Alright — what's on the docket for today? You're not going to ditch me again, right?"

He shook his head with a little smile. "All the victors are 'home' from the Capitol after all the Games excitement, so it looks like you're stuck with me."

"Oh no," she said, though her eyes were sparkling a bit. "You mean I'll actually have an instructor who can _stick around?_ "

"Hey," Rhodey said, holding up both of his hands. "Not my fault."

"Maybe not, but you're going to make it up to me anyway," Carol informed him.

"I am?" He raised an eyebrow her way, and she just grinned.

"Oh yeah. For one thing, you're going to head down to the dual sims and show me that roll you did last time — I've got the spin down now."

"You been practicing?" Rhodey asked with a crooked smile.

"What else is there to do around here?" she pointed out, and Rhodey just had to nod his agreement at that, though he was still grinning her way.

"Well, I could show you a few other moves and tricks," he offered.

"And we might even run the sim," she said.

She hadn't meant to say it — she was just so used to teasing and beating guys to the punch on that sort of thing. But he stopped outright on the way to the flight sim and turned her way, both eyebrows raised high and a look that she hadn't ever seen on his face before. "What?"

"Sorry, reflex tease," she said, waving him off, though she couldn't help frowning his way a bit. She'd meant it as a lighthearted jab, but something was up with him.

But he just shrugged it off, and they'd arrived at the sim by then, so it wasn't like she could do much to press him on it.

She was a bit distracted through the rest of the sim thinking over his reaction, what she'd said, trying to figure out where teasing had gone wrong to make him jump right into defensive mode like he had. So she lost the dogfight pretty soundly, and when she climbed out of the cockpit, Rhodey had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked her over.

"Really?"

"Shut up, Rhodes," she grumbled his way.

He just kept his arms crossed. "You had a great opening in that curve; want to tell me why you didn't take it?"

"I didn't see it."

"I was wide open."

"I didn't see it," Carol repeated, this time with a bit of a glare.

Rhodey just shook his head at her. "What's up with you, Carol? You haven't run a sim that poorly since you learned how to take the stick."

"What's up with _you_?" she shot back. "And don't say 'nothing', because you were jumpy a few days ago too."

He frowned her way for a good long time before he just uncrossed his arms and headed for the door. "Tomorrow, we're going to run the same sim. And I expect you to pull your head out when we do," he said in a tone that rang with finality.

"Only if you bring your 'A' game, Rhodes," she shot back.

He turned to face her with that same look that she couldn't quite identify. "I always do."

"Yeah, sure," she said, jutting her chin up a bit before she decided, screw it, she was going to do _something_ to get rid of that stupid expression. In two quick strides, she crossed the room to plant a kiss on his cheek, and before he could do anything about it, she just spun on her heel - so that he couldn't see that she was just as surprised at herself as he was. She had _no_ idea what had possessed her to do that.

But whatever it was still had a grip on her, because as she headed out the door, she tossed over her shoulder, "Your move, Rhodes."


	6. A Woman's Heart

Notes: Yes, agreed. We'll have lines for both Creed and Essex and everyone will feel better. Also, yes, hello Miran we adore you. Also shoutout to Ophelia Claire, who was part of the original Frenzy and whose Kurt stuff we've been using heavily because, look, O writes the most adorable Kurt, okay? We love having these ladies as part of the collaboration - and keep an eye out for more awesome ladies in the very near future!

* * *

 **Chapter 6: A Woman's Heart**

* * *

 _August 3_

 _Essex's Laboratories_

* * *

Today's newest resurrection woke up not only on the hospital bed but also restrained to a backboard, her arms and legs tightly at her sides with no room to wiggle in the slightest. She couldn't even move her head from side to side. Clearly, for this girl, they were taking no chances, not considering the extensive training that she'd already received from the Red Room.

Of course, Natasha Romanoff didn't take well to being restrained, and almost as soon as she was awake and aware enough to realize her situation, she was methodically straining every muscle, trying every trick she could think of to get free before she had even opened her eyes, automatically moving into fight mode as soon as she'd registered the danger — all while the machinery in the room monitored her complete lack of progress on escaping and her body's reaction to it.

Essex waited for the girl to wear out her options, watching with almost predatory interest from outside the room as the numeric records of panic came in: heartbeat, blood pressure, and so on. Most impressive was that these were the only signs, however, as her expression hadn't really changed to reflect any panic, and even after she fell still and stopped straining fruitlessly, it was clear she was agitated, but amazingly, there no obvious outward signs. It was only once she stopped straining that he moved from the observation room.

"You're a smart girl," Essex said as he opened the door and slowly approached the young woman. "I shouldn't have to tell you that you're not getting off that backboard until we've reached an agreement."

Her gaze found him, and she gave him a long once-over as best she could from her restrained state, sizing him up and trying to decide the best approach to dealing with him. The dispassionate look he met her with told her it probably wouldn't work to play at being broken or at crying, so she just took a deep, calming breath to get her heart rate to a more neutral point. "That depends on the agreement," she said in a cool tone that matched his with practiced skill.

"I have a need for a person with your talents," he said frankly. "But I need to know that you will do what you're told. Everytime, without fail, without question."

She let out a little derisive snort. "I don't see why I would," she said, matching his honesty with her own so she could get a better read on him. Mirror him. Study him. She had no reason to give him her allegiance - and she didn't like being _told_ what to do. That wasn't his place.

He smiled cruelly. "It's fairly simple, really. If you don't, you die. Or, if that doesn't seem like so terrible of an idea, keep in mind that there is a device resting next to your heart that can deliver a type of poison that will do nothing but cause excruciating pain for hours." He tipped his head her way. "Of course. I'd only use the fatal dose when I decided to put you out of your misery."

"Of course," she said, still mirroring him, her eyes narrowing as she worked to keep her breath steady and give as little away as she could. "You don't want to waste all the time you spent on bringing me back by throwing it all away. I _did_ die, after all. It can't be easy to pull off … whatever you've done to reverse _that_."

"You would be surprised," he said, the cruel smile still there despite her attempt at reasoning with him. "Resisting me would only mean multiple resurrections for the same treatment until you get it _right_."

She fell silent for a moment. So she couldn't appeal to keeping an asset alive, not if he treated resurrection so blithely. Maybe she could make it personal... "I didn't realize I had such a fan from just a few days in the Games."

"Oh, I've been watching you since long before you volunteered," he admitted, though there was none of the Capitolite excitement of Games fans or the likes of Tivan, which told Natasha he knew far more than what normal observers would. "Who do you think gave them the green light to send you in?" he added, and that had her interests piqued — what did he know, exactly?

"I don't think I caught your name," she said with a guarded look. "Here or in Two."

He smiled a bit more widely. "Of course not, though which of my names would you like? I operate under so many."

"If you've been watching me for so long, you'd know which one I would recognize," she shot back. "Or was that a lie too?"

"Ah." He nodded in understanding. "In Two, and several of the outer districts, I'm known as Dr. Charles Windsor."

It was obvious from the change in her inflection and her body language that Natasha recognized the name, as she went quiet and still. "Then what do you need me to do?" she asked at last, slowly and carefully. "I was trained for the Games, and those are over now."

"You _thought_ you were trained for the Games," he replied, though he didn't elaborate on that statement at all, instead turning his attention to the various machinery she was still hooked to. "For now, I need you to keep to yourself and build your strength back up."

"Simple enough," she agreed. "And it shouldn't take long before I'm ready for what's next."

"We'll start with strength training, and then I'd like you to review your tapes from the Games and tell me in detail where you went _wrong,_ " he said, the slightest flash just behind his gaze that had her biting back a frown.

Still for just a moment, her pride flared in her eyes at the idea that she had done anything wrong, but she only nodded, oddly docile for how defiant she had been before. "Yes, sir."

* * *

 _Early Morning of August 4_

 _Triskellion_

* * *

Skye jerked into consciousness in the early hours of the morning, panic evident in every muscle and every breath. The worst part was that there wasn't really anyone she could talk to about it, she knew, because she wasn't even supposed to _know_ about the thing that had been giving her nightmares for the past few nights.

It had definitely been a bad idea to watch the unedited Creed tape Coulson had asked her to find for the victors by herself. In the middle of the night.

But she also _really_ wasn't supposed to see it, so that was kinda her own fault. She turned over, punched her pillow as if it was the cause of all her anxiety, and tried to get back to sleep. It really shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did, right? Guy wasn't even targeting her and really… she wasn't anywhere close to him. But it still _bothered_ her.

It probably also didn't help that she hadn't really had time to watch the video until _after_ Coulson sprung the revelation that there were dead kids in the sub-basement of the building being brought back to life, so she had nightmare zombie Frankenstein terror fuel on the brain and _then she watched that stupid video,_ so she was definitely questioning her life decisions.

She'd thought she hadn't made too much noise or drawn too much attention, but the pain in her knee told her she'd hit the wall beside her bed at some point — probably when she kneed the nightmare zombie in the groin — and since May's room was right there on the other side of the wall, the older woman appeared only minutes after Skye had calmed back down. In the short time between dealing with the jumbled mess of creepy victors and zombie kids in her nightmares and when May knocked on the door, Skye tried very hard not to feel like she was, what, _nine_ and having bad dreams? This was not SHIELD agent behavior.

Still, she went to the door to find May standing there with just one eyebrow raised as she looked in on Skye's disorderly room. "Sorry," Skye muttered quickly. "I… am an active sleeper. Didn't mean to wake you."

"I was awake already," May replied, though she didn't look like she was going anywhere. "You talk in your sleep."

"Oh," Skye said, very quietly.

"It didn't make much sense, if it makes you feel any better. Monsters mostly." She tipped her head to the side a bit as she seemed to study out how best to help Skye. "How about some fresh air and a drink of water?"

"I'm fine, _Mom_. I don't need warm milk or anything," Skye said, pulling a bit of a face.

May rolled her eyes and crossed the room to drop into a chair — after she moved the clothes and the laptop that was sitting on it. "I'm sure this has nothing at all to do with your field trip earlier then, huh?"

Skye glanced up at May for a second and then let out a breath. "Yeah, well, only partly," she admitted. "The zombies in the basement are a lot to process." She straightened up a bit as she quickly added, "I'll get there though," just so there was no concern about whether or not she could hack it in SHIELD. She _so_ could. They couldn't scare her off this easily.

"I'm sure they're not out to get your brains," May teased lightly

"You never know," Skye said with a bit of a smirk. "I've been told I have a lot of 'em. Braaaains."

May just smirked the slightest bit and shook her head at Skye. "You need to relax. If you want to talk about it - I'm sure … we can arrange for you to see Xavier," she offered gently.

"I don't need a shrink or anything," Skye said.

"Says the grown woman having nightmares about zombies and monsters."

"In my defense? This grown woman just learned zombies and monsters are _real_ , so cut me a little slack," Skye defended.

May just smirked at her. "Really? You live in the Capitol and you just _now_ realized that monsters are real?"

"Touche," Skye said, unable to stop the little laugh that escaped her. She sat up a bit, realizing May _still_ wasn't going anywhere, before she tipped her head to the side. "The Games just… there's this whole other side to them with monsters and zombies and Frankensteins, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that all this was hidden right under our noses." She gestured at her laptop. "A few months ago, this would be _exactly_ the kind of thing I'd be out to expose, tell the world, let them know the danger and the stuff SHIELD is doing…."

"And now?"

"Now I'm in the system, and it's even worse than what I was blogging about and…" Skye shook her head, unsure where to go from there because she _still_ didn't know _how_ to react or what she should _do_. "I didn't think there were _literal monsters_ in SHIELD. I mean. I knew some of the victors were class A creeps, but come _on_."

"What makes you think they're all not Class A creeps?" May asked curiously.

"Well, I live in hope," Skye said with a shrug. "I mean, they can't _all_ be like — freaking Victor Creed or whatever."

"No," she agreed. "But they were all murderers from the time they won — untrained killers that, so far, really haven't gone through any kind of therapy."

"Yeah, that part is on you guys," Skye pointed out. "Isn't SHIELD supposed to be in charge of all the Games stuff? You want me to see Xavier — why not point him at some of the Grade A psychos? They're only running loose in the Capitol being total creeps and just…." She trailed off. "Yeah, that's on you guys."

She nodded her head in concession. "Well, to be fair, some of the younger victors _have_ sought out Xavier. It's the older ones and the ones that refuse to believe they need help that you should watch out for. Victor Creed is absolutely one of them."

"Yeah, that's all well and good, but you know it's not like he's keeping his psychotic hands to himself," Skye grumped. "People should know SHIELD sucks at controlling their hand-made killers."

"What do you know?" May asked with a frown.

Skye looked a bit surprised at herself as she clearly hadn't meant to put May on that scent and just frowned right back at her. But she was all about freedom of information, so— "Ask Coulson," she grumbled. "He's got the tape."

"What tape?" May said. "If you have it, you should share."

Skye had to smirk at May even as she reached over to grab her laptop from the bedstand where May had placed it. "I thought that was a big no-no around here. Could get me killed. Big secrets, confidentiality, all that stuff," she said as she looked up the right file.

"Shut up and show me what you have."

Skye queued up the video in strained silence, still not sure herself on how much May knew and a little wary of playing it again in the wee hours of the morning, but hey, May was here, so it wouldn't be so bad as watching it _by herself like an idiot_. She just wordlessly turned the laptop May's way so at least she wouldn't have to watch it, though, letting the whole thing play out as it was clear from May's expression that she was livid — which was really saying something, since Skye hadn't really thought May did… emotions, really.

"So… yeah. SHIELD sucks at running these Games," Skye said when it was finished, very quietly, as she watched May's expression intently. "Thought we were supposed to protect people."

"We are," she said through her teeth.

"You guys've done a really great job so far."

May gave her a dry look. "All I can tell you for sure is that Director Fury has no plans to let Victor Creed live through this rebellion."

Skye let out all her breath on hearing that, nodding quietly. "That… that does make me feel better, actually. Because SHIELD with this guy in it… is _so_ not something I want a part of, thanks."

"No one wants to be a part of anything with him in it — but we also can't let the other side use him against us."

"So we make a deal with the devil until we can kill him dead." Skye frowned. "Not sure I like that either."

"Unfortunately, killing him now would draw too much attention."

Skye let out another, long breath. "Yeah. I guess." She took her laptop back from May and set it to sleep mode before she glanced at the older woman. "It just sucks in the meantime, doesn't it?"

"That it does," she said with an uncustomary sigh. "We'll just have to make sure you know how to handle yourself."

"I thought that was why I was stuck with Ward and a punching bag in the mornings," Skye said with the slightest of smiles.

"You may need auxiliary lessons from someone with more experience."

"You offering?"

"I'm just not sure Ward knows the angles needed for a woman your size to fend off someone that big."

Skye frowned the slightest bit. "You don't think that's gonna be a problem — do you? For me, I mean?" She paused. "I mean… I'm not a tribute…"

"I'd rather not wait for it to happen and _then_ decide to work on it," May replied. "I don't know that it would be a problem, but it's better to be prepared — and there are other creeps out there besides _just_ Victor Creed, you know."

Skye nodded quietly at that. "Okay, yeah. Good. Right." She glanced at her clock and then let out a sigh. "So… how early would said lessons be? Because... I do actually need sleep to function."

"I don't want to even see you until I've had at least two cups of coffee," May replied. "So how about after morning briefings?"

Skye grinned. "That works for me. You don't want to deal with me before then anyway. This?" She gestured at herself. "This is not my usual morning personality."

May just smirked and nodded her head once. "Go to sleep so you can learn how to slay monsters."

* * *

 _August 8_

 _Charles Xavier's Office_

* * *

For the most part, Charles had always passed his birthday in quiet, especially since it was so close after the end of the Games that he was more interested in solitude — busy as he was in their aftermath with everything else. A quiet morning to himself was enough of a birthday celebration, though the elegantly wrapped gift that had found its way to his 'official' desk outside of the Tahiti wing had done wonders for his mood that morning.

He'd brought the leather-bound book down with him and fully intended to crack it open and pour through it for a while before he began the rest of his duties for the day, though when he got to the title page, he recognized the slanted cursive handwriting and had to stop and smile when he realized that Moira had left him a note — with "for your 40th" written on the top as she liked to tease him about his age. She was a few weeks younger, and proud of that fact.

But the note itself was devoid of any lighthearted teasing about his age, just an honest to goodness love note, elegantly written — she'd clearly taken _time_ and _effort_ to write it just so, and he couldn't help but smile as he re-read it, leaned back in his chair and lingering over the little details like the curls at the end of every single letter.

It was an old tradition between the two of them, at this point, because it was absolutely frowned upon — any _unauthorized_ fraternization between stylists or escorts and victors would mean the escort or stylist was fired at the very least, disgraced oftentimes, as was the case with Johnny Storm's initial escort. And so, like so many other parts of his life, this nearly 20-year relationship was hidden, relegated to love letters and secret notes, like they were still as young as the children they were supposed to look out for.

So Charles was honestly lost in his own thoughts when his scheduled appointment arrived, and he closed the leather book with a bit of a frown, setting it aside as he called for Kurt to come in and tore his mind from his own personal affairs to the pressing matter of plans for tomorrow.

Kurt poked his head around the door with a little smile and a wave before he slipped into the room and found a seat. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did," Charles replied warmly. "I thought it best that we sit down to discuss how that interview went over for you. I'm sure to let it wait for so long, but I'm confident you know, at least, that the truth was stretched well beyond the breaking point."

Kurt nodded slowly, though it was clear the topic of the interview was a tender one as the easy smile vanished. "I know that nearly everything they said about Logan was a lie," he told Charles honestly. "I hope you don't believe a word of it — he… he needs someone to remind him it's not true, and since I'm not there…" He tipped his head Charles' way. "I can help you, if that's what you wanted to talk about," he offered almost eagerly. "Anything I can do to help him."

Charles' smile only widened at that. "Yes, I'm sure you could if we can find a way to make that happen," he agreed. "But for the moment, I'm not asking for your help with Logan; I would simply like to talk about how you're handling all that you saw."

"I'm just glad I know," Kurt said honestly, the slightest of frowns tugging at the edge of his expression.

"I'm sure you're not glad to know much of what they were lying about," Charles replied.

"No, that's true," Kurt agreed, letting out all his breath as his shoulders slumped the slightest bit. "I didn't like watching what it did to my friend. I just — wish I could have been there," he admitted.

"If it makes you feel any better at all, I have a close friend in Seven's group," Charles told him. "And I've asked this friend to help me keep an eye on that situation."

Kurt sat up a bit straighter. "Oh — good," he said with a little nod. "I'm glad to hear that."

"You know, of course, that the love story angle was a total fabrication," Charles said gently.

For a moment, Kurt glanced up at Charles with slightly widened eyes, then quickly looked back down at his hands. "Yeah, I noticed that Logan sort of … shut down when they got to that part. I don't think he saw it coming." He let out a breath and just shook his head slowly as he thought of it.

"He did not," Charles agreed.

"It's not right," Kurt continued, frowning harder. "They shouldn't use her memory against him like that. When we were in the Games, those first days — that alliance was the only thing keeping us from… well. Falling apart like, I suppose, they did, in the end." He glanced up at Charles. "Watching that interview … they took the _only_ good part of the Games from him. I've been thinking about it a long time, and I think that's why they did it."

"That's very likely true," Charles agreed.

"So — if you want to know how I took it, like you said," Kurt added, "I guess the only thing I _can_ say is that it just makes me angry." He shook his head. "And — frustrated that I can't do more to help when I know it's just targeted to hurt him."

"Kurt, I will do all that I can for your friend," Charles promised. "But I need to be sure that _you_ are going to be alright as well."

"I'll be fine as soon as I can start helping," Kurt said honestly. He gestured around the room as a whole. "Cooped up down here with nothing to do but think about all the ways the Capitol has wronged — and is still wronging — so many people... " He shrugged and gave Charles a slightly sheepish smile. "Well, I try not to let my temper get the best of me, and I _try_ to be more peaceable, but I am angry. I won't lie about that."

"As well you should be," Charles agreed. "You've every right to be angry." He paused. "But I hope … that won't stop you from helping me in the morning."

"Of course not," Kurt said quickly, shaking his head. "If I can help, let me know what I can do."

"Meet me here, first thing. I'd like your help when we wake up the next ex-tribute."

Kurt couldn't help but break into a bit of a grin at the prospect of another friend in the Tahiti Wing, though he had to ask, "Isn't that usually Cassie's job?"

"I think this is better suited to you, Mr. Wagner."

"Then of course I'll do what I can," Kurt assured him. He smiled a bit wider as he added, "I think I have the layout of the Tahiti Wing memorized by now, at least. For the most part."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," Charles said with a smile. "I believe you will be an excellent tour guide, no matter how detailed the tour."

* * *

The next morning, Charles was again seated in his office with the leather-bound book, this time actually reading through it as he waited for Kurt to come see him. It was clear the young man was both hopeful and nervous about that morning, as he arrived a little earlier than scheduled and slipped inside with a halfway terrified expression.

"Are you ready to say hello to our newest team member?" Charles asked with an excited gleam of his own.

Kurt nodded wordlessly for a long moment before he finally seemed to find his voice. "Am I at least allowed to know who it is before we get there, or…?"

"Of course," Charles said with a broad smile. "It's Kate."

At that, Kurt just stared at Charles for a moment, his expression clearly nervous even as a smile kept tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was exactly the name he'd hoped to hear, but even hearing it now, it was clear he was anxious. "Oh," was all he could manage for the moment. He swallowed almost convulsively before he said, "I saw — I saw the end… She… You were able to bring her back, then? Even after… how bad it was?"

"Yes, it was actually simple enough as far as traumatic injuries go, I've been told." He started down the hall without waiting for Kurt before he called over his shoulder. "This way, please."

Xavier was at the door before Kurt spoke again. "Charles?"

Charles paused, his expression saddening before he relaxed into a smile and turned back to the boy. "Yes?"

Kurt stared at the floor for a long time. "Will she… remember? Dying, I mean? It was slower for her than… "

The older man looked, for a moment, even older than he was. "We try to dull the memories, Kurt. The very process dulls the last moments. She will remember what happened, but feel no more than you do." He nodded a gentle smile. "Let's go see how she is."

It took Kurt another few moments before he got up the nerve to follow after Charles, his mouth dry as he just… had absolutely no idea what he was going to say to Kate. What he could _possibly_ say to Kate after everything that had happened? In the Games, he'd just wanted to find her and throw his arms around her — but knowing what he knew, even discounting the blown-up lies from the Capitol… He just didn't know what she would be _like_ when she woke up.

He turned the corner after Charles and just nodded quietly to himself, resolving to just be careful once he got there. Just ... show her around Tahiti and let her come to terms with the rest of it on her own time. He could do that much, at least.

* * *

 _August 9_

 _Somewhere beneath SHIELD_

* * *

There was some kind of beeping, almost mechanical. For a panicked moment, Kate thought it might have been another one of those parachutes, but it wasn't quite the same sound.

She felt strange. The pain was gone, but it was replaced by a heaviness, an unfamiliarity… she couldn't move, and the light hurt her eyes. It had taken so long to slip into unconsciousness after Steve...

 _Is this some kind of sick joke? Waking up again?_

She started to panic as she realized that the strange feeling wasn't going away, that the brightness still hurt — she wanted to move, but she must have been hurt pretty badly if she couldn't. Though why she couldn't feel any pain was still a mystery. The beeping beside her got more intense as she strained to _see_ , which really wasn't helping either.

"Miss Bishop," a gentle voice said. "You'll come out of this quicker if you try to relax."

She tried to force her eyes open. If someone was there with her — she had to see what was happening. She couldn't move — she was vulnerable. Blinking against the bright light, she could see a white room, almost like a hospital, and a man in a wheelchair nearby.

"You're perfectly safe," he said. "No one is going to harm you in the least. Welcome back."

She frowned as she tried to force her mouth to form words, surprised at how hard it was. "Seriously? You're threatening my best sense with the blinding interrogation routine."

"My apologies." Charles gestured toward a mirror, and the lights were dimmed, although she still felt her eyes sting.

In spite of that, she fixed her gaze on him, trying to place where she'd seen him before until, finally, it clicked — he was a victor. She'd seen him around the Capitol before, but that had to mean… "I won?"

"I'm afraid not," he replied gently. "But you are here, nonetheless."

She looked around her surroundings once more, this time a bit more carefully as she tried to get some semblance of control back. It was hard to get her muscles to respond the way she wanted them too. "I want to go home," she said abruptly, putting voice to the same pounding thought she hadn't been able to say out loud in the Games.

"I know," he replied with a sympathetic tone. "But I'm afraid that's not possible yet."

She shook her head stubbornly, the monitor betraying her sped-up heartbeat even when she was trying to look determined and not terrified. "I don't want to play these stupid games anymore. I just want _out_."

"No more games," he said, shaking his head. "Revolution." He gave her a meaningful look as he waited for the concept to sink in a bit. "But I'm getting ahead of myself." He moved a bit closer and extended his hand to her. "Charles Xavier. It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear, even under such dire circumstances."

She stared at him for a moment before she took his hand, still a little wary. "Kate Bishop. I guess you knew that though," she said with a little fleeting smile.

"How do you feel?" Charles asked, "Outside of what I'm sure is a nasty case of disorientation."

"Heavy," Kate said, scrunching up her nose, rolling both shoulders as she said it, the weight worrisome when she _needed_ her arms for archery and everything else. "Where am I? What did you _do_ to me?"

"We brought you back," he said. "And we're far beneath the Capitol, away from anyone's knowledge."

She thought about it for a moment before she just nodded and let out all her breath. "So I died then," she said quietly. "I screwed up."

The older man smiled. "On the contrary, you did exceptionally well," Charles said. "Even if you did die."

She shook her head and frowned his way. "I murdered someone — and I didn't even kill the right person," she insisted. She gestured around the medical wing. "So thanks for bringing me back; I really didn't want to go to Hell. But please don't expect me to _thank_ you," she said, some heat rising in her voice.

"Miss Bishop," Charles said. "You can't be too concerned about what did or didn't' happen over the course of the Games. The important thing is that you are here now. Hopefully, to do _good._ "

"Where's Logan?" she asked sharply. "I'll start there."

"He's not here," Charles said.

"I didn't ask you where he's not," Kate said with a glare as she tried to swing her legs off the bed.

Charles exhaled a sigh as his shoulders dropped. "He's in District Seven."

She stilled then, and her gaze hardened into even more of a glare, her hands clenched in fists against the fabric of the bed. "He _won_ ," she all but spat out. "I didn't get to fight him, so he _won_."

"Kate, no one wins," Charles said.

"Oh really?" She drew herself up and planted herself on her feet as more a show of willpower than anything else. "Because one of us can go _home_ , Charles Xavier. One of us didn't _die_."

"But that is all he has — nothing and no one else," Charles said patiently.

"His own fault," Kate said through gritted teeth. "You saw what he did. I know the victors watch the Games. Not surprised he's alone."

Charles looked a bit sympathetic to her as he weighed out his next words. "I can't say that I'm surprised by your outlook, and knowing what you currently do, you certainly are in the right. _Knowing what you currently do._ "

"It doesn't matter, does it? He's in Seven, and we're here…" She let out a little noise of frustration and shook her head hard.

"Let's not worry about Logan for now. We can discuss this all later," Charles suggested. "We should get you settled into your new room."

She just watched him for a long moment, the distrust plainly written across her face. "Fine," she finally spat out.

"Not to mention there are others who I'm sure you would rather see." Charles looked toward the mirrored section of wall, and moments later, a familiar figure stepped through the door.

Kate couldn't help but stare as she recognized the dark curls and nervous smile when Kurt waved hello at her, and she could feel the anger draining out of her in an instant, all but that small insistent nagging in the back of her mind that _Kurt still died_ — but it didn't matter as she lunged as fast as her clumsy newly healed body would let her and flung her arms around Kurt.

And Kate had never kissed anyone before, but she kissed Kurt right then, just as hard as she could. It was a little strange because she still felt very fuzzy, but there was no way was she going to pass this up. She had already regretted not doing it for too long.

She'd clearly caught him off guard, as he let out a small noise of surprise, but then he just pulled her in, his arms around her in a warm hug — and as the two former tributes became more intimately reacquainted, Charles wheeled himself around them toward the door.

"Kurt, when the two of you are… finished, meet me down in my office. I have something for both of you to see," Charles said as he headed out of Kate's little hospital room. "Take your time."

Kurt glanced toward Charles for a moment before the victor left, and he gave Kate his full attention once more. Kate was surprised that Kurt looked …well, it was hard to place his expression. But he also hadn't let go of her or tried to push her back when she was _not_ letting go of him, so that was good at least.

But she felt the blush rising in her cheeks as, now that she'd kissed him, she realized she didn't really know what to _do_. "Um. Hi," she said, finally, turning brilliantly pink as she met his still-surprised gaze. "I missed you."

He grinned at her for a second. "I missed you too," he said, still not letting go and even hugging her tighter. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"I should be ... I should have looked for you harder," Kate said in a rush into his chest, her forehead resting for a moment on his collar. "I wanted to find you guys again, and the next thing I knew…"

"We tried to find you," Kurt said.

"I found a new partner," Kate admitted. "Well, another partner. The other Hawkeye? I wanted to induct him into Team Awesome."

"Is there room for him?" Kurt teased.

She waved her hand and laughed, picking her head up so he could see her shake her head at him. "Of _course_. He's great. Saved my life twice."

"Well as long as the others have no issues, and if he qualifies... then I hope we can meet him."

Kate's eyes widened at that. "Are they bringing everyone back?" she asked, fearfully hopeful.

"I don't know. I hope so," he said. "I know they're working on more than they've done before — but even with who's here now, we've beaten that record."

"Before?" She wrinkled her nose as she began to realize there was a lot more going on than Charles had told her.

"It looks like it was two or three a year before us," Kurt said. "But we already had three back before today."

"Anyone we know?" Kate asked.

"The Five girl and the Three boy," he said before he shrugged. "And me."

"Well, at least there's you," Kate said before she just half buried her face in his shoulder in a very, very tight hug.

He gladly returned her embrace, eyes closed and just soaking it in, much of his previous concern simply melting away. Reluctantly, he eventually pulled his head back and looked into her eyes. "We should go see what Charles has to share."

She sighed as if this was a heavy imposition before she took the slightest of steps back but kept her arm laced through his. "Well, I have no idea where we are, so I guess that makes you my escort," she informed him, clearly just _relieved_ to have him back and not about to be further apart from him than she was at the moment. She edged slightly closer and said, "You don't mind if I lean on you, do you? I'm still a little weak…" Although that was certainly true, her eyes gave another reason entirely.

"Of course, Kate." He covered her hand with his and let out a relieved sigh as he led the way slowly to Charles' office with a little grin firmly in place. He didn't know what to say — he simply hadn't expected her to be so … _warm_. Not that he was complaining.

They walked slowly, both for the benefit of Kate's still-recovering body and because they were both simply loathe to do anything but _be_ together. But when they got to Charles' office, the former victor was waiting for them with the welcoming smile that he wore most of the time, clearly not at all bothered by the long wait. "Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing with a sweeping motion to the chairs near a monitor. "I have something you both should see, but I ask that you attempt to keep an open mind about it until it's over."

Kate frowned at the monitor for a moment and took a stronger grip on Kurt's arm. "I don't … I'm done with videos, thanks," she murmured.

"Please, Kate," Charles said with a cautious expression. "There is much you don't know — and you should."

"I already know enough," Kate said with a hateful glare that Kurt wasn't accustomed to seeing on her face. It marred her features entirely, and for a moment, he simply didn't recognize the girl beside him.

"You know what they wanted you to know," Charles replied quietly. "And what you _were_ told — simply is not the truth."

Kurt frowned. He didn't like the sound of that, and he couldn't help but wonder just what Charles was talking about. Who could have _told_ Kate anything, when the arena was closed off to outside influence except via sponsors and parachutes? "What are you saying?" he asked, carefully, the dawning suspicion starting to gnaw at him.

"I _know_ how you died, Kurt," Kate said, though her gaze and her glare were fixed on Charles.

"Tracker jackers," Kurt said with a nod that was not to be argued with. "What does that have to do with anything?"

But she turned to face him with her eyebrows raised. "Tracker jackers?" she repeated, in a tone that clearly indicated she thought he was messing with her.

"I'm reasonably sure I know how I died, Kate," Kurt replied evenly.

"You clearly don't," she said, shaking her head.

He frowned at her, surprised at the expression he saw just behind her eyes. "I was there," he insisted flatly.

"And hallucinating, apparently!" she countered, throwing up the hand that wasn't attached to his arm. "You can't have remembered-"

"I _know_ what happened, even if I was hallucinating," Kurt replied with a bit of heat. "Like _everyone else_ that was there."

Kate stared at him. "You — no, that's not what—"

"It _is_ ," Kurt insisted stubbornly. "That's _exactly_ what happened."

It was clear that Kate was having a hard time processing what Kurt told her. She'd spent days in the Games thinking she knew what was going on, and her most recent memories were of her last, desperate fight to get to Logan… But Kurt had been _hallucinating_. He admitted it. And she had seen, with her own two eyes… But then, she'd known the video looked like it was tampered with. But the _sound_. The final words exchanged. That was real, wasn't it? _How far did the Capitol go to manipulate us all?_

"Logan was ready to give up after you died," Charles said to Kurt when it was clear Kate had nothing to give him for a reply. "It was plain enough to see."

Kurt turned toward Charles with startled alarm in his expression. "What happened?" he asked as Kate quietly sank into the chair beside him, processing, one hand pressed to her forehead.

"The Capitol sent videos to all of the tributes," Charles said. "Everyone's was tampered with _except_ for Logan's." He paused to let that sink in a bit for the two of them. "If you want to know what happened to him — then you need to see the video that was sent to him."

"You mean everyone ... " Kate stared at Charles. "Why would they _do_ that?"

"To either break you or make you fight," Charles replied in a tired tone.

Kurt watched Kate as all the color seemed to drain from her face. He put his hand over hers, concerned, before he looked back to Charles. "What really happened?" he asked, a bit more insistently this time.

Charles' gaze hardened as he pushed the remote across the desk. "There is nothing I can say that would soften this." He took a breath as Kurt picked up the remote. "It is the aftermath of your death, Mr. Wagner, and if I could simply verbalize what happened, I would not ask you to go through this. But I am at an absolute loss for words."

Kurt felt his mouth go dry as Kate reached over and put her other hand on his arm, but clearly Charles wanted them to see this. And while he might not have been back from the dead for very long, he already trusted Charles more than he trusted anyone else in this program.

The monitor flared to life, and Kurt recognized part of it from what they had played in the interviews when they talked about his death. And even though it wasn't the first time, it was still so strange to see his own body, to see his own death. He could feel Kate tense beside him as she let out a little noise, and somehow, both of them ended up clutching each other's hands by the time Logan arrived — and they saw the look on his face.

Kurt gasped. He just … he just couldn't tear his eyes from the screen. He watched as his friend knelt down beside him — beside _his body_ — and he could feel the ghost memory of ribbons around his arms as he watched Logan wrap them. By the time Logan began to _pray_ , Kurt could hardly see the screen for trying to hold back what Kate had already given into, if the choked sniffles beside him were any indication.

But there was hardly time to try to compose themselves before the parachute arrived, and when Kurt glanced over at Kate and saw the pure hatred in her eyes, it only confirmed it — this had to be what Charles meant when he said the tributes were _all_ sent videos.

They watched as Logan took the box to a secluded cooler so that he could view its contents, and when Victor Creed's face was projected on the wall, Kurt couldn't help but fall into a glare, his jaw tight as he remembered what he had seen of the video at the Capitol. That had only been glimpses and snippets. Now, he was seeing the cruel Sabretooth as he taunted Logan, every bit the inhuman monster the rumors suggested.

He glanced at Kate to see that she was furious when Creed mentioned Kurt's death, but then, when Creed began to utter his threats—

It was clear she panicked. Both Kurt and Charles could see the unfiltered terror as, abruptly, she was thirteen years old and _helpless_ , and it wasn't until Kurt let out a small sound that she realized she was digging her nails into him with the force of her grasp.

"We're done," Kurt said suddenly, sharply, as he stopped the video. But for some reason, Kate shook her head hard.

"No. I want to know," she insisted, her voice hardly more than a whisper, and Kurt paused, the remote still in his hand as he glanced at Charles.

"Okay," Kurt said softly. "But here." He handed her the remote, pointing to the play and stop buttons. "You're in control."

Kate gave him a grateful nod, took a shaky breath and hit the button. Although it shook her to the core, she let the entire video play out, and over her own ragged breath, they heard the sounds of Logan absolutely _trashing_ the cooler in response to Creed's message.

But the footage didn't end there; it went through to the end of the Games, the full, unedited fight between Logan and Steve playing out with all the dialogue that the Capitol had cut.

In context, it was easy for Kate and Kurt to see Logan's pure rage, to understand _why_ it was there. And Steve … Kate felt that much more ashamed, because Steve had taken up her vendetta, and he was only making Logan more angry, perpetuating her mess. Kurt, on the other hand, was watching Logan refuse to listen to what Steve was saying as he even _defended_ Kate. It put the entire fight in a new context, and by the time the video came to its natural end, the room was deathly quiet except for the small hum of the monitor. Kurt stared for a moment before he turned it off with a snap.

Charles gave them some time to settle before he took a deep breath and held it for a moment. "Your friend knows that the Capitol hasn't let any of this out for the public to view."

"You mean he knows the Capitol is blatantly _lying_ to the public?" Kurt said with a pure anger in his tone.

" _And_ he knows they've painted him to be the new version of Victor Creed," Charles said. "Yes. He knows all of that."

"This isn't right," Kurt said, and he would have been on his feet if Kate hadn't all but buried herself in his shoulder.

"It is the way the Capitol has chosen to spin it," Charles replied.

"Not just the spin," Kurt insisted. "All of it. Sending those videos, letting Creed get away with everything — all of it."

"I know," Charles replied. "It's exactly what we're working against right now. We must put an end to this vile system."

"You can't let them keep this up," Kurt said angrily. "If the Capitol spends enough time comparing him to Creed, he'll start to believe it — at least some of it."

"It's highly unorthodox, and not at all allowed, but I _am_ monitoring him as closely as our resources will allow," Charles promised. "Believe me, I realize he is at risk."

"But we still can't see him?" Kurt said, with a bit of heat.

Charles shook his head sadly. "I wish you could, and if it were up to me — you would."

Kurt frowned for a long moment, clearly just… angry on his friend's behalf. He glanced down at hands that were entwined with Kate's, and then over at the girl herself, who was still nestled into his shoulder and hadn't moved since the video footage ended.

Charles spoke with quiet urgency. "If we want to end the Games, and all they represent, then we need your help. There are people in Seven looking out for Logan. He's not as alone as he seems to believe."

At that, Kate finally picked up her head and looked _furious_. "You're letting him stay in Seven with that … that sack of… he's his _neighbor_!"

"We have no choice," Charles replied, sounding pained. "Not until after the so-called victory tour. Then we'll be able to bring him to the Capitol, at least — and get him away from Creed."

"That's months away," Kate said sharply.

"There's nothing we can do about it until then, Katherine," Charles replied.

"Just like you couldn't do anything about Logan getting that video? Or about all the crap Creed did before that?" She was gaining steam and clearly livid. "You can bring people back to life, but you can't stop those things?"

"Believe it or not, I didn't even know what the video showed until your old mentor told me about it," Charles said.

"Black Bolt?" Kate pulled her head back for a moment, startled. "How…?"

"It appears to have been a bit of a chain reaction," Charles said. "One of the stylists for Seven let it slip to one of the stylists from Twelve ... an altercation occurred, Blackagar was told — and he promptly told the rest of the mentors."

"It _can't_ happen again," Kate insisted almost breathlessly. "He can't do this."

"No, it can't," he agreed sharply. "And it won't. It appears that the district has already puzzled out the details. Your friend has more backing than he realizes."

"Of course he does," Kurt said. "Especially from people who know the two of them."

"There are precious few that know both of them," Charles said with a grimace. "But they both have very different reputations in the district."

"How long?" Kate asked suddenly. "How long before we can see him? I need to..." She trailed off, several emotions coloring her features all at once.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that," Charles replied. He watched her carefully, gauging her reactions. "I'm sorry to give you all this at once, but I feel it's best that you know what you're getting into, and why."

She thought about it for a moment before she bit her lip. "You said something about a revolution," she said softly, carefully.

"Yes," he said, finally, looking almost eager. "We need to prepare."


	7. Period of Adjustment

**Notes: *gleeful giggles* Yes, take a look at our chosen username and you'll know we're fairly excited to get Team Awesome back together. Slowly but surely. Bringing people back from the dead takes time, kids. Time and effort. ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Period of Adjustment**

* * *

 _August 10_

 _Training Room, Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

Kate grinned at Kurt as the two of them headed to the training room together and slipped her arm through his. It was _amazing_ to have him back, to be able to be close to him, and she very nearly revolved around him like a bright and cheerful moon. She seemed unwilling to _not_ be touching him somehow, as if he might just up and disappear on her if she wasn't careful.

It had been less than 24 hours since they woke her, but already she felt like they kept Kurt so _busy_ and hard to _find_. Between the training, the mandatory sessions with Essex or Charles, the medical tests they kept running to make sure everything was working the way it was supposed to — well, it was nearly impossible to get any time alone together. So even this short walk down to the training room together was like food to a starving girl.

She beamed at Kurt with the full force of her brightest smile. "You're just jealous someone else is going to get my attention," she teased him.

"Kate," he said, laughing, "I just meant — your body can't be healed yet. Not completely. I know I'm not back up to snuff, and I woke up _days_ ago." He gave her a warm smile. "I know you're used to being strong, and I don't want you hurting yourself—"

"Kurt, listen," she said, pulling on his hand to get him to turn her way, though once he was facing her, she was sure to keep his hand in hers. "It's really very sweet of you to be worried, and the protective boyfriend look is good on you, it really is. But if we're here to learn how to be revolutionaries, let's _be_ rebels, huh?"

If Kate had been expecting a response, she was left waiting as Kurt stopped in his tracks and stared at her, and it took her a second to realize what she had done.

"What did I — oh. _Oh_ my gosh. Did I — I did, didn't I?" She felt as if she was blushing so hard that she might even change hair color and become a redhead.

Kurt, meanwhile, was a brilliant shade of fuchsia and had gone sort of stiff as he repeated the words 'protective boyfriend' under his breath.

"Goodluckintrainingokaybye!" Kate called out, darting for the door and throwing herself through it before she could say anything else potentially embarrassing — although she doubted that was even possible at the moment.

She ran to do some stretches on a mat nearby and furiously refused to look over at Kurt, because if she did, she would just blush that much harder — so she was a bit surprised and a little relieved when she was joined at the mat by a familiar blonde.

Her head popped up, and she couldn't help the wide-eyed look. "No way."

Bobbi Morse grinned at her, holding two bo staffs. "Hey, Kate," she said as if they'd been friends for ages. "How's the afterlife treating you?"

Kate gaped for a second longer before she finally remembered to close her mouth. "Pretty darn well if they sent _the_ Mockingbird to be my trainer."

Bobbi laughed at that before she simply waved off the adulation. "I'm one of the trainers — at least, as often as I come to the Capitol and can get down here. But I have to admit, I'm pretty excited about the training prospects this year." She grinned and tossed Kate a bo staff.

Kate examined the bo staff with a mixture of reverence and awe. She'd seen Bobbi take on tributes twice her size during the Games only a few years ago, and her skill with staves and other hand-to-hand weapons had been nearly legendary even long after the victory tour and the hype was over.

Heck, half the girls in Kate's class at school wanted to _be_ Bobbi Morse, because she was one of the very few female victors.

Bobbi smiled kindly until Kate turned her attention from the staff to the victor in front of her. "Now, I know they want you trained up fast so they can start sending you out," she said. "You'll start sniper training as soon as the guy who does guns gets back from a mission of his own, but for now, let's just get your strength back, huh?" As she spoke, she pulled her hair back into a bun and threw a hair tie at Kate so she could do the same. "Can I ask how you're doing? Those last Games _sucked_ , and more than usual."

Kate blinked at Bobbi in surprise before she finally found her voice. "I'm fine."

"Charles told me he showed you the tape," Bobbi said.

Kate nodded wordlessly. She didn't know Bobbi well enough yet to tell her that she'd woken up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, that she couldn't quite shake the feeling that something or someone was going to try and kill her — or worse — at any moment, but then, she wondered if that was how everyone felt after coming back from the Games.

"Your mentor got hold of it. I just wanted to let you know none of us knew, alright? None of us. And if you'd won, I swear we'd have done everything in our power to keep you safe."

"Thanks," Kate said quietly, almost embarrassed by the woman's insistence.

Bobbi's smile was warmth and support. "Creed's lucky we were in the Capitol when it happened, or I'd've done more than just hit him."

Kate had to smirk at that and shook her head at Bobbi. "You're a lot more direct than everyone else around here," she said.

"Hey, I can dance around an answer with the best of them. But honesty's easier than a lie any day of the week," Bobbi said with a shrug.

"I appreciate it," Kate said. She sighed and shook her head before she added, "How come you're the only one who does it?"

"I'm really not… but there are a few reasons — for me at least," Bobbi said with a shrug. "One is because I don't get to do much straight talk when I'm in the Capitol or at home, so this is about the only place I get to be _real_." She paused and held out her bo staff. "Okay, show me your grip."

Kate took a ready stance, and Bobbi almost immediately clicked her tongue. "Hold on," she said, stepping forward to move Kate's hands. "You don't want your hands too close together like that. And you'll want to adjust your grip — like this." She moved Kate's hands slightly again. "There. Much better." Bobbi grinned at her and then jumped back into their conversation. "Second is that you're an open book, and this is a secret op. I might be good with staves, but I'm also an expert in infiltration. It's my job to make sure you learn how to _lie_."

"I can lie," Kate spluttered, but Bobbi just laughed. "I can! Just ask me... "

"How do you feel about Kurt? Tell me you're not interested."

Kate's jaw dropped open, but nothing came out. Her cheeks, however, flushed nicely as she snapped her mouth shut and stared at the mat.

"Nope," Bobbi smirked. "You _really_ can't." She held up her staff for Kate. "Okay, I'm just going to gauge your body strength. You've only been awake for a few days, so don't feel bad if you get tired faster than you usually would." She evened the staff out, holding it horizontally. "Take a good swing — right into the center of mine, got it?"

Kate did as she was told, and Bobbi nodded. "Good. But here. Let me show you a stance that'll give more power to your movements."

Kate tried to mimic Bobbi's pose, and Bobbi gently pulled at Kate's shoulders and hips until she was satisfied with the stance. With that set, she stood in front of Kate again, holding her staff the same way. "Come on Hawkeye, let's see what you've got."

Again, Kate swung the staff, and this time, Bobbi grinned. "Much better."

"So, who trained _you_ on this kind of stuff?" Kate asked, grinning a bit at the compliment.

Bobbi shrugged lightly. "I grew up in a Career district. I might not've been in the Red Room like the girl this year, but, well, there's plenty of fight training in that district, seeing as that's where the Sentinels come from. Everybody there wants to know how to fight — for the Games, or for their job, or for their trainers."

Kate nodded. There had always been rumors that the Career districts had facilities for training, but it was nice to hear it actually confirmed. "What's the Red Room?"

"Think a facility like, this but run by people on an even bigger power trip who don't care how many kids they blow through." Bobbi spread her staff out. "Hit me again."

Kate did. "That sounds kind of awful."

"It kind of is." Bobbi shifted her stance so that she was holding the staff horizontally. "Back to work. Go again."

Kate began to shift her stance for the new direction of attack, but Bobbi stopped her and twisted her shoulders again. "You're leaning too far forward. You'll fall over if you're not careful," Bobbi explained.

"Thanks," Kate said, surprised to find that she was already a little breathless.

"You doing alright?" Bobbi asked, one eyebrow arched.

Kate nodded. "Yeah, think so." She took another swing at Bobbi's staff. "It took me a while to remember how to use all my muscles yesterday."

"Yeah, that's a common complaint," Bobbi said with a nod, tipping her head to the side a bit as she watched Kate. "Alright, now let's look at your defense. I'm going to swing at you, and then you parry."

Kate nodded, taking up a defensive position. When she saw Bobbi move to correct her, she tried to pull her shoulders back the way Bobbi had done for her before, and Bobbi laughed. "Don't overcorrect," she said.

Kate sighed and allowed Bobbi to position her.

It only took a few parries, though, before Kate felt her arms screaming out for her to _please stop_. Bobbi didn't seem to be holding back when she swung her staff, and Kate could feel her muscles straining with every parry. She only managed four of those before she had to ask for a break.

Bobbi grinned at Kate as the younger girl sat down heavily on the mat and looked more than a little disappointed. "Hey," Bobbi said, tossing her a water bottle, "don't worry about it. You used to be dead."

"I can't use that excuse forever," Kate pointed out.

"But it's a _good_ excuse, isn't it?" Bobbi took a long drink from her water bottle and leaned back, her head tilted up at the ceiling and her eyes closed.

The two of them stayed that way for a while, and Kate was grateful that Bobbi allowed her to set the pace and decide when she wanted to get back to work. It took her a while to feel like her arms weren't going to fall off, but finally, she pushed herself up.

"Okay, let's go again."

The two of them went back and forth some more, but it wasn't long before Kate's muscles were protesting every movement, and she had to stop again.

The two of them were resting in the corner of the little room when, abruptly, Kate asked, "Did you want Clint to win?"

Bobbi looked a bit surprised at the question. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he was from your district. I know you were Natasha's mentor, but… I was just thinking about it last night—"

"Never think about things like that late at night, Kate. There be dragons." Bobbi smirked.

Kate rolled her eyes. "Yeah, no, I know. I just was thinking, though, because Clint and I were allies in the Games…." She trailed off.

Bobbi just reached over and rested a hand on Kate's shoulder. "Hey, the one nice thing about being a victor is I get to _choose_ how I spend my free time in the Capitol, because it's _very_ limited." She gave Kate a reassuring smile and a squeeze. "So I pick everyone I train. Even if they do wake up Clint, I still want you on my roster. Not many kids from Twelve would team up with a Career, not to mention trying to take _care_ of him when he was down like that."

"Even after I got him killed?"

"Even after he got _himself_ killed," Bobbi said. She leaned her head back against the wall. "Don't dwell on the Games too much, Kate. You'll get lost in it. Trust me."

Kate nodded and took another long drink from her water bottle before she stood up again. "Okay, let's go again."

At the end of the session, Bobbi showed Kate where the panels were to access her bow, as well as the holographic systems for training practice so that she didn't have to wait for someone else to set it up for her. Kate showed off a little, even though her arms were exhausted, and ran through one of the shorter, easier archery programs. By the time she was done, Bobbi was grinning outright.

"You're a natural at this," she said, and Kate flushed with pleasure. "How'd you learn how to use one of those anyway? I'm pretty sure District Twelve doesn't have a training facility like we had."

Kate laughed. "No, I just had a few friends who wanted to learn how to fight, and we all sort of taught ourselves," she said. She paused as she tried to decide what all she could tell Bobbi, but seeing as Bobbi had just told her about the secret training facilities in Two, maybe secrets like that were a little safer around here… "My friend Eli wanted me to do more hand-to-hand, and I'm okay at it, but the second I got my hands on a bow, it just _clicked_ , you know?"

Bobbi grinned and nodded. "I was just wondering if maybe I should find out if we need to correct your grip or something," she said. "If you haven't been trained—"

Kate made a face. "Please don't." She rolled her shoulders, which were starting to ache again. "If it's okay with you… It's just that archery is _mine_ , you know? Something I brought from home. I don't… I don't really want anyone else to touch it."

Bobbi tilted her head at Kate and studied her for a moment before, with a smile, she nodded. "Fair enough." She gestured to the door, and the two of them exited the side room. "Want to see what some of the others are up to?"

"Sounds good to me," Kate said with a wide, beaming smile as she headed over to where she knew Kurt would be training, excited to see him in action.

She pretended she didn't notice that Bobbi was smirking behind her. It was good practice in lying.

* * *

 _August 10_

 _Office of the Director of SHIELD_

* * *

Charles wasn't surprised that Fury had called him to his office, though he had to frown when he saw the furious expression on the director of SHIELD's face.

"What can I do for you, director?" Charles asked pleasantly.

"You were _not_ authorized to access the Games footage. You were _not_ authorized show it to those two future operatives," Fury said with an imposing glare.

"I wasn't aware that it was contraband," Charles said with a frown. "I certainly didn't go looking for it, though it did help open a few doors for Kate and Kurt. They're quite dedicated to the cause at this point."

"That's not what Essex' reports are saying," Fury said.

"Consider your source," Charles replied.

"I'm not saying I believe him. Why do you think I asked you to step in? But I have to agree you took an _unauthorized_ risk. There's a reason we restrict access to outside information for these operatives. We don't have a guarantee as to how they will react."

"There's no risk in telling them the truth," Charles said evenly. "Unless you mean to deceive them further."

"I asked you to win their loyalty to _us_ , not to _you_ — and now I find that you're undermining that effort from day one. With one of _my_ snipers."

"That loyalty will be incredibly hard to earn if what I tell them or how I counsel them is at all filtered through Essex — particularly with Kate," Charles countered. "I'm working to make them all more stable — not more fragile. To leave the lies and manipulations as they were when they were still in the Games would be counter-intuitive at best if you want them to trust _anyone in this organization_."

"I'm less interested in their trust than their loyalty," Fury said coldly.

Charles looked supremely irritated at Fury's selective understanding. "You _cannot_ earn their loyalty unless they trust you," Charles said. "The two go hand in hand."

"I'm not going to listen to a lecture on trust when the footage you stole for them was lifted from the servers without any authorization."

"Director Fury, it was _given_ to me by a source I will not reveal while you're in this paranoid spy hunter mindset. I didn't know the footage even existed." He took a moment to return Fury's glare. "But now I am concerned at how much you're hiding from them, and from me. It brings me to wonder if perhaps it would be better for our newest victor to turn the _other_ way if he's just going to be used until he's completely broken."

Fury tipped his chin up at Charles. "You know as well as I do it's important to keep the tightest possible lid on any information about the program — and by extension about the Games as well."

"Director, officially, these children are dead. Who would they tell?"

Fury shook his head. "These are two separate problems. You undermining their trust in SHIELD — and where the unauthorized leak came from."

"I'm not undermining anything," Charles defended. "If anything, I'm helping to draw the line between what the Capitol does and what SHIELD is trying to do. You have to admit, Director Fury, unless you're deeply entrenched, there seems to be no difference between the two."

"And that's a view we've worked hard to nurture publicly."

"And I will not be one to break that _publicly_ ," Charles insisted. "It's more of a concern to _me_ that the ones that are fighting for your cause understand what is being asked of them, rather than being kept in the dark."

"Then I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree." Fury frowned for a moment before he straightened up with a change in subject matter. "One more thing," he said. "Wagner and Bishop."

"What about them?" Charles asked. "They seem to be adjusting well. Neither one can wait to dive into the fight."

"The last thing I need is a couple of lovesick teenagers with their minds focused on anything but their missions. Make them aware of our policy on fraternization, or I'll have Essex do it."

"Yes, director. I'll relay the message," Charles said with a nod.

Fury watched him for a moment and let out a breath. "I don't like Essex having this much power with my operatives, but I need to know you can handle this program the way I want it to be handled."

"Not only can I handle it, but I can make sure that they'll be _stable_ — far more than Essex could ever accomplish. You are fully aware of this, or you never would have asked for my assistance."

"I want Essex out," Fury told him frankly. "But mistakes like this will keep him on board longer."

"There was no mistake," Charles said heatedly. "Unless crediting what that man had to say counts."

"He's being dealt with," Fury promised.

"I hope so," Charles said. "Every moment he's hovering over the Stark boy will likely equate to an hour in my office, attempting to reverse the damage."

"Stark is doing good work. I understand he's already improved the process. The reports I've seen show progress in refining the tech to prevent material decay… The lab rats tell me that means we can bring more back faster and without burning through the materials as quick as we have been."

"He is working under emotional duress, hoping to reverse what he perceives as his mistakes in the Games," Charles said. "And he only agreed to work on it after having seen a name on a file that he should not have. Not that there are _any_ leaks on that side of Essex's door."

"If you think I didn't have him in here for the same dressing down, you're sorely mistaken," Fury said with a glare. "I don't care how smart either of you think you are — information is _life and death_ at this stage. I don't care who either of you think needs to see it."

"Unless it's being used to further the program, it seems. Then _any_ information can be put in the hands of someone looking to manipulate children that are desperate for a whisper of salvation."

"Look, Xavier. This time next year, I want you in his job, and he'll only come in for the big push right after the Games. But that's only if I can _trust you_. Otherwise I'll find someone else that isn't you _or_ Essex."

"You are assuming that I would accept the position," Charles replied, "Which can only happen if I am allowed to work with the children as I see fit — not using Essex's filter of lies and manipulation."

"I'll make sure to remind him he's not your supervisor," Fury said with the slightest smirk. He straightened up as he pressed a button at his desk to open the door for Charles. "Thank you for your time, professor," he said with a coldly dismissive tone. "We _will_ get past these rookie mistakes sooner rather than later. At least until we transition Essex out of the program."

"That will depend entirely on the professionalism displayed at the _highest_ levels," Charles replied coldly, before he left in a huff.

He was still glaring at his thoughts by the time he'd gotten through security and back to the Tahiti Wing, though he paused, distracted, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a stifled giggle.

When he did spot Kate and Kurt, they'd found each other in a hallway and, without regard for the cameras, were very clearly experimenting with their newfound intimacy as only teenagers their age could do — in the middle of a doorway, without a thought for where they were or who might see them.

"I'm glad to see you picking up steam, Miss Bishop," Charles said, smiling broadly, as a means of announcing his presence.

The two of them broke apart and looked brilliantly red at being caught, though they were grinning when they saw him all the same. "Yes, yes I am," Kate said with a little smile. "Um — sorry, we can go somewhere else?" she offered when she realized Charles wasn't going anywhere.

"Perhaps after we've had a word about a few of the rules around here — and other matters," Charles said, purposefully not looking their way as he scanned the halls for trouble.

Kate looked toward Kurt, who just squeezed her hand in his and gave her an encouraging nod. "We all have to talk with Charles — it's part of dealing with the Games," he assured her before he added in a lower tone, "It helps."

"I thought that was the reason we had to talk to tall, dark, and creepy," Kate replied, rolling her eyes dramatically. "It doesn't help, by the way. No offense, Charles."

"If you don't care to talk with me, then the alternative _is_ Dr. Essex," Charles replied. "But I'm afraid it is required to talk to one of us."

"Is there an Option C?" Kate asked with her nose slightly wrinkled. "I mean, you're nice and all, Charles, but can't we just ... move on? Put it all behind us?"

He looked very nearly sad. "I'm afraid not."

Kurt kissed her cheek as Kate let out a long sigh. " _Fine_." She briefly considered sighing once more, in case it made him do it again.

"Mr. Wagner is welcome to join us if that would make you more comfortable," Charles said.

She glanced at Kurt and then shook her head. "No, that's okay," she said before letting out a little laugh. "Don't want to scare him off with all my childhood traumas, right, Charles?"

"I believe he's a bit more sturdy than you give him credit for," Charles replied with a smile. "But I'm sure Mr. Wagner will be more than happy to rejoin you when you're through."

"Play you at pool later?" Kate offered as she popped up to kiss Kurt's cheek.

"I'll make sure that the table is open," Kurt promised.

She smiled and squeezed his hand before she turned Charles' way and let out a long and dramatic breath. "Fine. We can go talk about rules or whatever. But if you're wondering, I _do_ promise not to break his heart or anything," she said with a crooked smile that had Kurt shaking his head at her.

"That is indeed a great weight off of my chest," Charles said with a suppressed chuckle. "I'll try not to take up too much of your time."

Kate nodded and followed Charles back to his office, though she had one eyebrow raised until she'd closed the door behind her. "Seriously, if there's a rule about kissing in the hallway or something — I don't mind. I remember how Billy and Teddy could be sometimes so — I get it, you don't have to give me the PDA lecture," she said.

"There is, but that's only part of it," Charles said with a smile. "I am duty-bound to inform you of the overly strict non-fraternization policy, but I'd prefer to use the rest of our time more wisely. Perhaps by having a discussion about how you're feeling, now that you're back in the land of the living."

She frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I get tired out from, like, two minutes with Bobbi, so there's that," Kate said with a wave and a frown. "But what do you mean non-fraternization? You mean like, no funny business or — I mean, I know Cassie said Jan and Hank were married but, c'mon, we're _fifteen._ You're getting _way_ ahead of yourself there, Charles."

"I didn't say that I agreed with it, just that I had to inform you of it," Charles replied. "And unfortunately, it extends beyond anything remotely amusing."

There was a momentary, quite silent pause. "That's not fair," Kate said with a deepening frown.

"I completely agree," Charles replied. "I assure you, it is equally difficult for any of the victors to pursue their own interests."

She raised her eyebrows his way. "But… Sue Storm and Reed Richards…. What, does Mr. Tall Dark and Creepy have to approve all matches?"

"Dr. Essex has nothing to do with Sue and Reed," Charles said. "But the Capitol does."

"Yeah… I don't get it, but I know Susan, my sister, would probably say it was, I dunno, good TV? Like pitching me and Logan as a couple was 'good TV'," Kate surmised with a frown. "But that just makes it more stupid." She shook her head, and looked toward Charles with sly smile. "Which means I'm sorry, but I'm really not going to listen to that rule, and you shouldn't either."

He sighed, sounding exactly like the adoptive father of fifteen teenagers. "I'd advise you — off the record — to be very careful about it," Charles said. "Though the consequences for me would certainly be more dire than for you and your beau."

Kate tipped her head at him for a second before she broke into a little smile. "She can stay in my room — I mean, secret underground facility? Perfect for hideaways."

"A most generous offer," Charles replied with amusement. "Unfortunately, she has her own duties to keep."

"Shame." She shook her head and just leaned back a bit in her seat. "Is she cute?"

He chuckled with the barest hint of embarrassment and nodded. "Far beyond _cute_ , I assure you. That isn't why we're here, though, Kate."

"No, we're here for you to tell me I can't just grab Kurt and kiss him. Duly noted."

"You can't just grab Kurt and kiss him where there are any cameras watching," Charles countered. "But I'd still like to speak with you about the Games."

Kate waved her hand at him. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" Her breezy tone was betrayed by the tightening of her jaw.

"It does, though," he said gently. "You were traumatized. It is impossible that you weren't affected —"

"I'm fine," she promised him, and she sounded entirely earnest. "I have Kurt, and I have a bow."

"You believe you are fine, and you certainly have plenty of reason to celebrate," he agreed.

"So what's the problem here, Charles?" she asked, regarding him with a bit of a frown. "Can't we just… forget that whole mess?"

"I wish that were the case," he replied. "How are you sleeping? Any nightmares?"

She paused at the question. "To be fair? It feels like the Games only happened a couple days ago. Ask me again in a month or so. That's not a fair question right now."

"So you're over the anxiety you suffered following the encounter with the apes?"

At the mention of that, Kate glared at him. "I'm _fine_."

"Fine. Yes. That's a lie, and we both know it," Charles replied. "I want to give you the tools to deal with your anxiety before it becomes a problem. I'd hate to see you spend the next ten years researching psychology as a means to get past it."

She blinked at him before a surprised sort of smile flitted over her face. "Well, I bet everyone deals differently. If you had some trees around here, I'd be fine in three hours flat."

"Then let's talk, and perhaps we'll be able to put you on the fast track for missions. I'm sure there must be trees out there somewhere."

She watched him carefully, clearly weighing out the proposal before she gave a long-suffering sigh. " _Fine_." She sat up in her chair, no longer leaning back casually but instead leaning toward him with a glare. "What do you want me to say, Charles? That I screwed up and went after one of my best friends? Because I got that message loud and clear." She pointed at her own face. "Bad guy. Total idiot. I get it."

"You are _not_ a bad guy," Charles said.

"Well, not _right now_. But the total idiot part—"

"You were _never_ a bad guy, Kate," Charles tried to assure her. "He has no idea, and you never met up. You were _manipulated_. That does not make you a bad guy." He exhaled forcefully, clearly feeling anger himself. "What you were is a victim."

"I'd rather be a bad guy," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

A smile creased his face. "I certainly understand not wanting to be a victim." He didn't add, _And do you know how much you sound like your friend Logan right now?_

"I don't know — maybe I've always been bad," Kate said with a shrug. "Makes me wonder why…" She didn't go on, and his eyes grew sympathetic.

"There isn't one thing about you that's bad," he said, shaking his head. "Even when you were out on the hunt — it was to seek justice for your friend."

"You caught the part where I killed a girl, right?"

"You were in an untenable position," Charles pointed out.

"A what?"

"An impossible situation. Like a soldier sent to war. You can't blame yourself for doing what you were required to do."

"Yeah, except I lured her there on purpose and shot her. You can admit it, Charles. There's no cameras in here." Her anger flared as she thought of videos, and she gestured around the room. "I'd have noticed if there were, or I wouldn't even be talking to you."

"I don't allow recordings in my office," Charles said gently. "And you were trying to survive. That's how the Games are arranged."

She waved her hand in dismissive annoyance. "Whatever. It's the _Games_. The big excuse for everything. For killing, for betraying… and even though they're over, you guys want us to kill more people, so…" Her eyes became sharp as diamond as her gaze bored into him. "I guess it's good I already know how."

He looked back at her levelly, actually relieved that she was finally expressing her anger. "The entire point of the Games is killing. Our goal now is _change_. If we can do this without killing, then I, frankly, would be relieved," Charles said. "I don't expect you to kill. I don't even expect you to fight. There are things that need to be done, and how they're done is, in part, up to you."

She gave him a look that clearly said she didn't believe him. "Look, you brought back an archer. I'm not stupid. It's fine — I know you want me to shoot some people, and I'm telling you, I'm fine. Just… make sure Kurt doesn't kill anyone. He didn't have to in the Games, so it's not fair to make him cross that line, you know?"

Charles filed away the expression of _herself_ being 'fine', but only concerned for Kurt. Perhaps the best way to get her to help herself was to keep in mind that she was more concerned about her young paramour. "Kurt has been given the same choice. He doesn't have to kill," Charles promised. "Although he, too, has assured me he is fine with whatever needs to be done."

Her eyes flared. "He's not _fine_. He's been through so much; no one who's been through the Games can be…" She faltered, realizing she was digging a hole for herself. "But after everything that happened, what else can we do?" Kate asked honestly. "All that crap they pulled with the videos and everything else ... how could we _not_ want to fight back?"

"It's always a choice," Charles said. "Always."

She shrugged. "Well, I made my choice a couple years ago. Screw the Capitol. So ... don't worry so much about that. You'll go bald." She paused and smirked his way before she added, "Or balder."

"A couple years ago?" Charles asked, ignoring the jibe.

For a moment, Kate bit her lip. "Yeah, you know Cassie's friends? That's when I met them — after she got Reaped, and …" Her eyes scanned the room as she seemed to double check her assessment that there were no cameras. "We've been screwing with Sentinels and going over the fence for _forever_ now." She shrugged with her hands upturned as she added, "I can't go home, might as well keep screwing with Sentinels, though."

"I see. You have a reputation to uphold," Charles said.

She nodded. "Don't worry so much. Just give me a tree to climb and a couple hours' privacy. That's all I ever needed back home, and then it's back to making Sentinels miserable."

"This type of ordeal is rarely settled quickly, Kate. We've made a good start. A very good start." He sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "But one last thing I would like to touch on today is your reaction to Logan's message—"

"That…" Kate trailed off. "Freaked me out. That's fair, though, right? Wouldn't you be freaked out if a huge guy came along and…" She took a long, deep breath. "It just freaked me out."

"You reacted a bit more intently, more _personally_ than a simple 'freak out'."

"It was a personalized message," she countered, her hands balling into fists.

"A fair point," Charles said, watching her body language carefully. "And a personalized message that you truly were never meant to see."

"I needed to see it," she insisted, though she was still tensed, with her fists in the fabric of her jeans at her knees.

"Clearly, I agree," he said, nodding. "Or you wouldn't have seen it."

"And I'm glad you showed it to me," Kate said. "I'm glad I know the truth, even if it freaked me out. When we meet up with Logan — I need to know the truth, you know?"

Charles nodded silently at that as he watched her, radiating calm as only he could do.

After a moment, she started to smooth out the knees of her jeans. "It's fine, Charles. Really. At least he didn't… you know. At least I didn't win. It's just _words_."

"Words that carry weight," Charles said. "But — I need to know that you will speak with me if you have any troubles. Any questions at all, even if they seem insignificant. I am on _your_ side."

She stared for a moment, then gave him a little smile. "I'm sure you are, Charles. But no offense? There's really not anything you can do. Guys like him will always be around, and until we run the revolution, Logan's still going to be screwed over. So, sure, I'll let you know if I have questions. The rest of it I'll get over." She paused and tipped her head at him. "I'll let you know if I find a silver parachute, though," she offered with the slightest of smirks. "You're pretty good at unraveling those. That's fixable, at least."

Their eyes remained locked until he tipped his head with a grin. "I'll see you once a week then — like everyone else." He flipped open a calendar on his desk and wrote her in. "And if you only want to sit and have a cup of tea — and perhaps stare at each other — then that's exactly what we'll do."

She relaxed substantially when she heard it. "That I can do," she said with a smile.

"Then you should go," Charles said. "I'm sure there are bets to be made over the pool table."

"Much less fun when we can't bet kisses," she agreed as she stood up. "I was just getting to like that."

"I'm sure." He restrained the laughter he felt welling up with practiced ease, but Kate seemed to feel it anyway as she reached the door.

"So, Charles… you want to lend me a few bucks so I can beat the guy? Promise I'll double your investment, at least!"

* * *

 _August 11_

 _Training Room of the Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"Ow."

Kurt rubbed his arm where his trainer, Matt Murdock, had hit him, but Matt didn't look the least bit apologetic. He did take a slight step back to let Kurt catch his breath, though.

"Pay better attention and you won't get hit," Matt said, grinning.

"Sorry," Kurt panted, bringing his fists back up and taking a defensive stance before Matt came at him again, this time with a quick jab that Kurt only just blocked, remembering to watch for a second punch only a second before it came and he ducked. He pushed Matt further away with his forearm and was partway through a turn to try a well-placed kick when Matt smacked him in the side with the flat of his hand, and he lost his breath and his momentum and nearly his balance.

Matt took another slight step back, inclining his head at Kurt for a moment. "You're off your game today. Need a minute?" he asked.

Kurt shook his head as he steadied himself. "No, no, I'm fine."

"You were doing much better yesterday when that new girl came to watch for a while," Matt said with a crooked grin. Maybe I should—"

"No, that's okay," Kurt said quickly.

At that, Matt's grin just widened that much more, and he crossed his arms. "Is she cute?" he asked.

Kurt stared at his trainer. "What?"

Matt waved a hand in front of his sightless eyes. "It's not like I'd know," he pointed out. "But I'd guess she'd have to be cute to throw you off like this."

"I'm _fine_ ," Kurt said, trying, for no reason, to make his face stop flushing. It wasn't like Matt could see it.

Matt shrugged and then spun unexpectedly on his heel. Kurt narrowly dodged the kick by dropping to the floor and then had to roll to avoid Matt's knee. He rolled to his knees and launched himself at Matt's middle, intending to tackle him, but Matt was harder to move than he looked. Kurt felt the flat of Matt's hand hit his shoulders, and then Matt's knee connected with his gut.

"Ngh," he gasped as he ended up flat on his back _again_ , the wind completely knocked out of him.

"Definitely cute," Matt said, grinning, as he offered Kurt a hand up. "Got one of those smiles that knocks you over, right? That's what you're thinking about?"

Kurt didn't see why it was any of Matt's business, but he sighed. "Her whole face lights up," he admitted, since Matt seemed determined.

"And?"

Kurt frowned. "Why do you care, Matt?"

"You weren't this distracted yesterday," Matt pointed out. "I figure if you're going to get all worked up over her, at least give me details so I can picture her properly."

Kurt sighed and passed a hand over his face. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Charles told us this morning about the non-fraternization rule."

"Ah," Matt said, nodding his sudden understanding. "And that's why you're distracted today. Upset that you can't get the girl."

"I _could_ get the girl," Kurt corrected him and drew himself up a bit. "I'm just not allowed. But she's definitely — I mean…we..." He trailed off and flushed a bit pink.

"Blonde?" Matt asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Is she blonde?"

Kurt shook his head, somewhere between disbelief and just… giving up on getting out of this. "She has black hair," he said. "It comes about halfway down her back, and during the Games she wore it in a headband, because it was her token."

Matt smirked at him and made a motion with his hand for Kurt to keep going.

"And… she's got deep blue eyes," Kurt continued, surprised at how fast the words were tumbling out of his mouth now that he'd gotten started. "And when she smiles, her eyes smile, too. She looks small and skinny — I guess because she grew up in Twelve — but she can hit any target you throw at her. She's got strong shoulders and arms because she's an archer, and I think sometimes she forgets that, because her hugs are _crushing_ , but the good kind of crushing, you know?" Matt was beaming with the force of a smug smile now, and Kurt blew out his breath, startled at how distracted he had become, how easy it was to picture her. He looked at Matt's reaction and rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he said.

"I didn't say anything," Matt pointed out, still grinning, before he uncrossed his arms and settled back into a fighting stance. "She sounds cute, Kurt. But from now on, don't bring it into training, okay? I'm not here to play camp counselor."

"Could've fooled me," Kurt muttered under his breath.

He had a feeling Matt heard him, because the flat of Matt's foot caught him in the stomach before he was quite ready, and he had to jump right back into sparring slightly winded because of it.

The thing was — to Kurt's chagrin — Matt's strategy had worked. The short break had given Kurt time to re-center, and telling someone about Kate, well, he had to admit it helped. It didn't help the disappointment that now that they were finally together they couldn't _do_ anything about it, but it helped that thought to stay out of the forefront of his mind for a while as he poured his entire focus into keeping up with Matt.

He was getting better; he was at least sure of that. When he first met Matt, he could never get more than a few minutes into light sparring before he ended up on his back. Now, he could last at least three times that, though he suspected Matt was still seriously holding back.

Kurt felt the sweat trickling down his face and neck as the match went on, and he was relieved when, at last, Matt announced that they were done for the day. Kurt half-tumbled onto the nearest bench and downed everything that was left in his water bottle.

Matt sat down next to him and toweled off before he gave Kurt a crooked little grin. "You're getting better."

"Got a good teacher," Kurt said with a smile.

"And just so you know, that non-fraternization thing?" Matt smirked a bit. "Only applies if you get caught. And I think you're smarter than getting caught."

Kurt stared at his trainer for a moment before he let out a little half-disbelieving laugh. "I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"Great. Say hi to the cute girl next time you see her. Tell her you think she's beautiful — instructor's orders," Matt said as he stood up to leave. "And try to imagine how proud she'll be if you get really good at this. It'll probably help your focus for tomorrow."

Kurt grinned and leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes closed as he caught his breath and recovered from the hard sparring session before he felt the bench shift, and he glanced over to see Kate drop into the seat next to him.

"How was training?" she asked, and he noticed that she was looking at his hands as if she, like him, was wishing she could grab them like she would have done yesterday, before they got their official reprimand about the rules.

Kurt took a breath and tore his gaze from their hands. "I like Matt," he said. "He's a good trainer, and…" He trailed off and flushed a funny pink color.

"What?"

"Uh — he said to tell you that you're cute."

"I thought he was blind," Kate said, then grinned as she added, "And what are you doing ferrying other people's flirty comments at me?"

"No," Kurt said, turning an even deeper shade. "I mean… He told me that I should tell you that I think you're cute. Well, he didn't say 'cute'. He said I should tell you you're _beautiful_."

Kate looked Kurt up and down, smiling with her tongue between her teeth. "So… which is it?"

"Which is what?"

"Is it that Matt thinks I'm cute or you do? Or that _someone_ , somewhere, seems to think I'm beautiful?" She smirked at him, enjoying the very tips of his ears, which were always the pinkest part of his face when this kind of thing happened.

"Kate…." Kurt shook his head. "Me that thinks that. I mean, me. It's me. Not Matt."

She beamed at him until he couldn't hold her gaze anymore and dropped it back to their hands, though that actually wasn't helping him at all.

He wasn't sure if things were more or less complicated now that they weren't allowed to explore… whatever this was between them. He'd thought, when he died, that he loved her. He still did. But this place only wanted them for rebellion and training — and they _did_ owe the Tahiti program their lives. Without them, he and Kate wouldn't even be alive and in the same room.

But that didn't exactly help the aching in his chest when he saw her smile and just wanted to kiss her, either. He hadn't kissed anyone before Kate, and he'd only been able to do that for two days before Charles told them about the rules. It was cruel, especially now that he knew how much he definitely, _definitely_ liked kissing Kate.

Finally, he let out a sigh. "Come on," he said, standing without taking her hand like he very much wanted to. "Let's grab a bite to eat."

* * *

 _August 12_

 _District Seven_

* * *

Logan had managed to keep Mac and Heather on their toes with his sneaking off into the woods and avoiding pretty much everyone. It had become an art form for him to just disappear without anyone's notice and to reappear well after dark when neither Heather nor Mac — or anyone else willing to get out of bed — were up and ready to give him a talking to.

He'd made it clear that he didn't want anything to do with anyone, as he did a decent job remaining numb most of the time. But even drunk, he'd figured out how to avoid Creed, along with everyone else.

Still, it was just a matter of time before someone who gave a damn was going to do something to try and get his attention. He just… he hadn't expected what he found on the kitchen table one morning after an impressive bender that had left him wondering how he'd even gotten back to his cabin, let alone into it.

There was a note. And a small stack of books just lying there.

He glared at it for a moment before he finally picked up the note and read it through twice.

 _Logan_ — _Thought you'd like these. Might give you a little perspective and something to do outside of just getting wasted. At least until you're ready to get back to work. Did wonders for me once upon a time. And I think you'll be surprised at what they have to say. Read 'em. Think about it. For your own damn good. Besides_ — _How the hell are you going to come back to cut if you can't pull your head out? Get it together, kid._

 _Smitty_

He set the note down and picked up the book on the top of the stack. It looked plain enough, but when he started to flip through it, he stared one of the first real pages after the title for a good stretch of time.

 _Bushido_ — _The Eight Virtues_

 _1- Rectitude - Rectitude is one's power to decide upon a course of conduct in accordance with reason, without wavering; to die when to die is right, to strike when to strike is right. Rectitude is the bone that gives firmness and stature. Without bones, the head cannot rest on top of the spine, nor hands move nor feet stand. So without Rectitude neither talent nor learning can make the human frame into a samurai._

 _2- Courage - Courage is worthy of being counted among virtues only if it's exercised in the cause of Righteousness and Rectitude. Perceiving what is right and doing it not reveals a lack of Courage. In short, 'Courage is doing what is right.'_

 _3- Benevolence - Love, magnanimity, affection for others, sympathy, and pity are traits of Benevolence, the highest attribute of the human soul. Both Confucius and Mencius often said the highest requirement of a ruler of men is Benevolence._

 _4- Politeness - Politeness should be the expression of a benevolent regard for the feelings of others; it's a poor virtue if it's motivated only by a fear of offending good taste. In its highest form, Politeness approaches love._

 _5- Honesty and Sincerity - True samurai disdained money, believing that 'men must grudge money, for riches hinder wisdom.' Thus children of high-ranking samurai were raised to believe that talking about money showed poor taste and that ignorance of the value of different coins showed good breeding._

 _6- Honor- The sense of Honor, a vivid consciousness of personal dignity and worth, characterized the samurai. He was born and bred to value the duties and privileges of his profession. Fear of disgrace hung like a sword over the head of every samurai … To take offense at slight provocation was ridiculed as 'short-tempered.' As the popular adage put it: 'True patience means bearing the unbearable.'_

 _7- Loyalty - Personal fidelity exists among all sorts of men: a gang of pickpockets swears allegiance to its leader. But only in the code of chivalrous Honor does Loyalty assume paramount importance._

 _8- Character and Self Control - The first objective of samurai education was to build up Character. The subtler faculties of prudence, intelligence, and dialectics were less important. Intellectual superiority was esteemed, but a samurai was essentially a man of action. Bushido teaches that men should behave according to an absolute moral standard, one that transcends logic. What's right is right, and what's wrong is wrong. The difference between good and bad and between right and wrong are givens, not arguments subject to discussion or justification, and a man should know the difference. Compassion over confrontation, and benevolence over belligerence_

He stared at the words on the page and very nearly just tossed the book aside, but it hadn't escaped his notice that Smitty had circled a few sections in bright red pen.

'…. _to die when to die is right'_ was underlined several times, as were the entire sections on Benevolence, Honesty, and Honor.

He set the book down gently and got a pot of coffee brewing. He stared out the window for a while, watching the rain fall gently and thinking about the incredible disaster the past month and a half had been.

When the coffee was done, he got a cup and sat down. He was still thinking about going out into the woods. Trying to find the wolf pack maybe … but Smitty would never go out of his way unless there was a good reason for it.

Logan scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a sigh before he picked up the book on Bushido again and started to read.


	8. Not So Happy Reunions

**Notes: Here we are, back from the holidays with more of our lovely kids. And we do mean more! ;) This chapter, the shoutout goes to Silmarilz1701, who has returned to write Sinthea Schmidt. We love Silz, we're excited to have Sin in this, and you know… Silz and Sin aren't the only surprises in store for you with this update. Call it a late holiday gift ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Not So Happy Reunions**

* * *

 _August 13_

 _Tahiti Facilities, Somewhere beneath SHIELD_

* * *

The first few days after Kate woke up were just about getting her muscles back, getting used to her body all over again. Her trainer, Bobbi Morse, assured her that everyone went through the same thing, that everyone in the program had to relearn even the basics.

Which was hollow assurance for the first day or two, when she felt like a beginner again with the _bow_ and not just with the stretches and stances and moves that Bobbi was trying to teach her for self-defense and hand-to-hand.

But archery, to Kate, was just natural, and at least it hadn't taken her long to get back into the swing of _that_. It was simply a matter of her muscles being up to the task. She usually got in about an hour of practice before Bobbi came to work with staves and hand-to-hand, so she was surprised when she arrived at the training room to find Bobbi already there. "What — no archery today?" Kate asked with a frown.

"I thought we'd save that for the end of the morning session," Bobbi said with a twinkle in her eyes. "I'm hoping you'll show off for your new trainer. He was being smug this morning, and this might be more satisfying than a good punch to the face."

Kate grinned. She liked Bobbi, and she knew she was super lucky to have her as a trainer when Bobbi was in the Capitol and not in Two. She wasn't sure lightning would strike the same place twice, though, since no other trainer could possibly be as awesome as Bobbi, so wiping smug looks off would have to do for now.

"Let's start you out with a few basics with the staff. We didn't do any staff work yesterday, and I want to see if your muscles are improving," Bobbi said as she tossed Kate her weapon.

Kate nodded, and for a while, there was nothing but the _smack_ of her staff hitting Bobbi's again and again. When at last, Bobbi nodded, Kate could feel the sweat trickling down her arms and neck, but she could tell she was improving by the smile on Bobbi's face.

"Not bad for a zombie," she said with a teasing smile.

By the end of the sparring session, it was time to unwind with one of the more difficult archery simulations, yellow flashes just in the corners of her vision with each shot as the course was designed to keep her moving to catch the next target before it disappeared.

It was obvious she was nearing the end of the course when the targets were popping up with increasing frequency and at more and more improbable angles, until her brand new arms were aching and the klaxon rang out to signal the end of the simulation.

"You didn't say that she was an intuitive shot," a man's voice rang out, and Kate turned to see that, while she had her whole focus in the simulation, a new trainer had joined Bobbi to watch the show. He was tall and had the slightest of accents that sounded a lot like the one Kurt had sometimes when he was tired, and Kate tipped her head the slightest in greeting.

Bobbi leaned back against the wall with her arms crossed, looking smug. "I told you she was good. Her and the boy from my district this year."

The man just shrugged her way. "Fair enough, but that means we gotta see how she'll do with rangefinders and something a little less … primitive."

"Vintage. The word you're looking for is vintage," Kate said as she shouldered her bow and made her way over.

"Paleolithic is more the definition I'm looking for, but I was trying to be tactful," he replied as he extended a hand her way. "David North. Nice to meet you."

"Kate Bishop. Wish I could say the same, but you're insulting my bow," she said, though she was smirking the slightest bit.

"Hey kid, if you want to keep your range limited to 80 yards, that's your business," he said with a shrug. "I lean more toward half a mile and up."

"Yeah, I've seen the shooting range on the grand tour Cassie gives," Kate said, her eyes sparkling. "It looks _awesome_."

"When you're ready … I'll take you out and show you how it's done. I was told you'd be ready today, but if you're married to your bow ... "

"First of all," she said, leveling her finger at him. "I _am_ ready today. Second, I can outshoot you with my bow any day and still master whatever you're teaching. And third, I'm a fast learner. Show me what you got."

"You _think_ that's what's going to happen. We'll see," North said with a smile. "Come on … no need to bring the sticks with you."

With that, North led her down to the shooting range, where his rifle cases were waiting for them. Long, substantial, black bodied with silver edging. He just walked up and started to unlock them with a smug little smile.

"We're going to start up close, more or less — still further out than you're used to shooting, though. A hundred yards to start. And we're going to focus on safety first," he told her as he showed her the rifles. He picked up the first one and started to explain to her what it was and when they were standard, before the formation of Marvel. The one she'd be using was at one time a common hunting rifle.

"Bolt action, so one shot at a time," he said after he'd walked her through the safety procedures and handed it to her. "Just line up the front and back sights, take off the safety, and pull the trigger when you're ready."

She examined the gun in her hand for a moment. She hadn't ever even _touched_ one before, because they were highly guarded, especially in Marvel, and not even Tommy had managed to steal one back in Twelve. She took a breath and let it out before she just raised the rifle, aiming for the paper target.

"Be sure to pull it tight to your shoulder," he said from behind her. "And use steady, even, increasing pressure on the trigger. Don't pull or jerk it."

"Got it," she said out of the corner of her mouth through the familiar tingle of adrenaline. She made sure to take off the safety, took a calming breath, and she was pretty sure she had all the steps right as she put her finger on the trigger and then fired.

The sound was _terrific_ , but it was the force of the rifle slamming into her shoulder that surprised her, and she grunted with the force of it.

North wasn't watching her when she turned to look at him. Instead, he had a pair of binoculars up and was trying to get a solid read on where she'd hit. "Not bad for your first time, six inches from the center. Looks like either a trigger jerk or a flinch. I can't believe that was an aiming issue."

"Probably both. Definitely not aiming," she muttered a bit sullenly. "This thing kicks back."

"Hey. This is your first time anywhere near a gun, right?" he asked, though he didn't wait for an answer. "It takes some getting used to. But …. It's fun, don't you think?"

She couldn't help but grin. "Oh yeah," she said with a nod. "There's something about hitting a target that's just … so satisfying."

"I should clarify, you got six inches from the center … but it was still a kill shot, so you know. You'd be fine with a center mass shot right now."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Kill shot. Awesome," she repeated, then pulled a face. "But I want to hit what I'm _aiming_ for." She hurried the response, quickly moving past the thought of killing.

"Yeah, you won't be sniping any time soon … not until you're used to the kick, the trigger pull … and are _totally_ comfortable with your weapon," North said. "That rifle is good out to 400 yards with the bullets you're using. So... make friendly with it."

"400 yards?" She looked at the weapon again and gave a low whistle as it was clear the idea of that much range had her excited. "Well… Practice makes perfect — yeah, I know the drill," she said with a smirk when she finally glanced back up at him. "Shoulda seen my first bow."

"I'm sure it was a rare and venerable work of art," he said, returning the smirk as he handed her another bullet. "Lock and load — and try again."

She nodded as she followed his instructions on how to do it and set up her next shot, keeping her grip a little tighter this time as she tried to pull it evenly, already tensed in anticipation of the recoil when she pulled the trigger and… nothing happened.

The panic hit instantly. She was dead. This was bad. Right? This looked bad. This was a gun, and it _wasn't working_ and he'd explained to her just a little bit ago about fouled rounds — what if it _blew up_ …

"Don't forget to check your safety before you fire," North said gently when he thought she was taking too long.

All the blood came rushing back to her face at once, and she turned bright red. _Right. The safety_.

She didn't take the safety off until she had her breathing back under control, and she took a moment to hold the rifle a bit tighter — though maybe a bit too tight, because the recoil didn't try to kill her, but it did throw off her aim something awful.

"Don't worry about it," North said. "Just keep trying. You'll need to shoot a lot before you get any good. There aren't many naturals in this."

"This is harder than it looks," she muttered, though she quickly added, "I'll get it, though."

"I'm you sure will," North agreed with a smile, as he handed over another round.

* * *

"So, how'd it go?" Kurt asked as soon as Kate walked into the cafeteria and grabbed a tray. She gave him a tired smile, realizing that he had been waiting up for her.

"Loud," she said, slipping into a seat at the table next to Kurt. He was almost finished with his meal, but it looked like he was picking around the edges, and she wondered how long he had been waiting for her to get back. She'd probably been at the gun range with North for longer than she meant to, but she was _determined_ to get this right.

"Loud?" Kurt repeated.

"And annoying," Kate said. "The training part, I mean. If I have to hear the gun safety rules recited back to me again… Like I didn't have them memorized after the first hour of being reminded."

Kurt smiled. "Well, _I_ for one am glad to hear that, at least. I don't like the idea of you taking too many risks."

She just smirked at him and mouthed, "protective boyfriend," which had him turning her favorite pink color on him. She turned her attention to filling her plate while he came back down from the brilliant blush.

Still, for as much as Kate complained about it, there was something _satisfying_ about hitting a target, even if it wasn't bows.

She'd get better, though. North said she was a fast learner, which, well, she'd _told_ him before she started training with him, but it was nice to hear he agreed. And besides, she was hitting her targets now. Wouldn't take her long before she was hitting them in the center every time, too. Hopefully.

"So, am I off-base to assume that you're not a fan of the rifles, then?" Kurt asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

Kate tilted her head. "I definitely like archery better," she said. "It's more… elegant."

"Sure you're not just saying that because you're already good at it?" Kurt teased with a small smile.

"Well, there _is_ that," Kate admitted, shrugging as she shoveled a forkful of broccoli into her mouth. "But I don't know, Kurt. I mean, North showed me the sniper course, and it's _beautiful_ , and I can't wait to _really_ play with it…"

"But?" he prompted.

"It sounds stupid, but… the gun _fights_ me," Kate said with a sigh. "With my bow, it's like an extension of my arm, but with the gun, it's like it's trying to kill _me_ too."

Kurt smiled softly. "I'm sure it's just a matter of practice."

"Yeah," she said grumpily, glaring down at her buttered corn.

"What did North say when you told him the gun was fighting you?" Kurt asked after a while, a playful gleam in his eyes.

Kate snorted. "Yeah, like I'm gonna tell him that."

"I'm sure you'll get it with time and repitition," Kurt said with a smile, and for just a second, their hands brushed. To anyone watching on surveillance, it looked like Kurt had just been reaching for his glass of water, but Kate knew he'd meant to do it.

The stupid non-fraternization rules were in the way, so they'd just have to settle for little moments like that, but Kate would take what she could get.

"Yeah, I'll be able to shoot him out of the range; just you wait," she agreed, meeting his gaze as they shared a half-secret smile. But then Carol walked in, and Kate looked back down at her food, clearing her throat. "So. How about you? How're things with Matt? Aren't you starting on swords soon?"

Kurt nodded, shifting a bit in his seat so they were slightly closer, and Kate could almost feel the warmth between them. They were so close they were nearly touching — but not quite. "Yes, I'm supposed to get a new trainer soon. But I'm enjoying working with Matt," he said. He moved his foot so that it was resting on hers, and she felt the blush shoot all the way down to the roots of her hair.

"That's cool," she muttered into her food.

Kurt was also rather pink as he cleared his throat. "Yes, well… Oh, I'm also learning more German. More than just those bits and phrases I picked up before. Charles had a few books in his library that he's letting me borrow."

At that, Kate picked up her head and gave him a genuine smile. "Really? That sounds fun — do you think you could teach me some, too?"

" _Ja_ ," Kurt replied as he met her smile with one of her own. "That sounds nice."

Before Kate could say anything further, though, Carol sat down in the seat across from them with a smirk. "Subtlety, guys. If you're going to break the rules, maybe don't make it quite so obvious when you play footsie."

Both of them jumped straight into blushing all over again, bright red, and that had Carol laughing as she leaned forward with a sparkle in her eyes. "Don't worry. I won't tell on you," she said. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she added. "In fact, if you didn't know already, there's a pretty sizeable camera dead zone in the hangar. Evidently, someone parked the jet just right so it blocks the camera." She shrugged. "No idea how that happened."

Kurt and Kate glanced at her with open stares, and she laughed. "It was James, if you were wondering," she said, this time with an entirely different kind of twinkle in her eyes. "I can't imagine _why_ he would do such a careless thing." She soon excused herself, leaving Kate and Kurt trying very hard not to immediately ditch the cafeteria and see if they could find the dead spot she was talking about.

* * *

 _August 15_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

It hadn't taken long at all before Cassie had all but attached herself to Kate — not only because the two of them were from Twelve but because they had the same friends, and Cassie wanted to know _everything_ about her old group, about how they were doing, about how life went on, everything.

So the two girls could almost always be found at breakfast together, even in just a few days of knowing each other — already fast friends. It had only taken a few mealtime conversation before they had assigned themselves spots at the table, and that morning, it was no different as they were already both knee-deep in their conversation.

"Does Eli still do that thing where he doesn't realize he's watching as close as he is and he ends up with his chin on your shoulder?" Cassie asked.

"Like I ever let him get that close," Kate laughed. "Or let him think he was running _anything_ I did."

"I don't know - you seem like his type," Cassie teased lightly.

"We're going to pretend you never said that," Kate said, shaking her head.

"Ooh yeah, that's right. Your type is a lot… _sweeter_."

"And less bossy."

"Oh, you have to be more specific than that," Cassie laughed. " _Everyone_ is less bossy than Eli."

"Well, he's also _really_ cute," Kate said as Kurt came into the room, and he couldn't help but smirk at her, knowing exactly what those two were up to as he just left them to it, grabbing his own breakfast before he sat down on the other side of Kate.

Before long, the two girls were completely wrapped up in teasing each other, their breakfast long-ago finished — so much so that they didn't notice Tony come in until he was sitting right across from them.

"Hey gorgeous," Tony said as he slipped into the seat across from Kate. "What's your plan for the day? Any chance you need a sparring partner for wrestling or something? I can bring the baby oil."

"No, I'm going to be shooting today," Kate said, with a look that said the only way she would have him there was if she wanted a moving target.

"No fraternization," Cassie said with a wave, not even looking up at him. "Not that you'd have a chance anyhow."

"Yeah, didn't you get the memo, Tony?" Kate said, shaking her head as she shared a quick glance with Kurt. "Even if you _were_ in my league—"

"Which you're not," Cassie muttured.

Kate pointed at Cassie. "Yep. What she said. You're not even my type, much less in my league."

"Wow. So that's a no then?" Tony said with a smirk. "Just to clarify, is that no for today or no for this week? Once we're out of here, we can frat away all we want, day and night." His dark eyes gleamed at the thought.

"You're planning on toppling Thanos' regime that fast?" Kate couldn't help but tease. "That'd be nice."

"Well if it means getting a date …"

"Only if I get to be the one to take down the president," she laughed, clearly not taking him seriously.

"I'm holding you to that," he said, pointing one finger her way.

"If you can pull it off in a week, I might even mean it," Kate replied. "Non-fraternization is stupid," she grumbled, though she was looking at Kurt.

"We should hold a love-in as a protest," Tony suggested.

"Well, _you'd_ have to find a date," Kate pointed out.

"Which is hard to do when you're dead," Cassie added.

Kate laughed. "This is true. We need to hurry up and fix this so we can leave this loveless place. I'll see if I can set you up with someone cute, too. We'll double date," she said to Cassie with a grin.

"I'm not dating Tony either."

"Yeah, he has to get his own date," Kate agreed, grinning wider as Tony seemed to draw himself up at the challenge.

"Next girl to come through those doors," Tony said.

"Right. If you try to put the moves on Carol, she'll put you on the ground," Kate giggled.

"I'd like to see that," Kurt said. "But I'll take that bet. Next girl."

Almost immediately, the doors opened with a sort of squeaking noise, and an all-too-familiar flash of red hair entered the room. Her freckled face was flushed red to match her hair, as if she had been running all morning. Her eyes went wide as she spotted the others.

"Sin?" Tony gaped, absolutely shocked. "What are you, what are you, what are you…What?"

"They said this wasn't a nightmare." Sinthea glared and folded her arms as she looked at them all. "But, if _you're_ here, then it must be."

"This should be good," Kate giggled devilishly as Tony's face turned to one of abject horror, realizing that _Sin_ had been the next girl.

He quickly tried to salvage the situation. "Sin. Sinthea. You're looking… nice."

Sin raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I mean, for a zombie," he added quickly. The murmurs of "smooth" and "this is going well" were not lost on him as his companions chuckled behind him.

Sinthea stared at him, confusion laced all over her face. She was somewhat amused, but largely annoyed. "For a zombie?"

"Yeah," Tony smiled half at her and half at Kurt. "You really are a nice-looking zombie. I especially enjoy how your freckles are accentuated by your… um… your hair. Cute lil' carrot top."

"Shut it, Stark," Sin ordered, holding up her hand. "You're pathetic when you grovel."

Tony looked absolutely stunned. "I'm not pathetic." He drew himself up and huffed. "And I do _not_ grovel."

Sinthea smirked at him. She shook her head and leaned against the door frame, surveying the scene before her. Of the people in the room, she had only really spent time with Tony, though the girl formerly from Twelve looked vaguely familiar, as if from a dream. She couldn't quite place her.

"Hold that expression long enough and it'll freeze on your face," Kate said with wary glare. "Stare any longer and I'll return the favor, and stab you, too."

"Ah," Sin nodded, the light dawning in her eyes as she remembered the fight at the bloodbath. "You put up a good fight, you know. I was impressed." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "For a little girl from Twelve you're pretty scrappy."

It took a great act of will for Kate to let 'little girl' go, but she held her temper. "It wouldn't have even been close if I'd had my bow," Kate countered, keeping her arms crossed.

Sin looked at her blankly, not sure how to react. But then she smiled lightly. "Keep telling yourself that, Twelve."

"Hawkeye," Kate corrected her. "The better one. Though considering my sidekick was the one who shot _you,_ I'd say I'm right about beating you."

"Well, then," Tony said. He cleared his throat as he looked between the two girls and let out a strangled 'meow' followed by a quiet hiss. "How's about you take your catfight elsewhere. Like to the training room where we can all safely watch. With popcorn."

"Oh that wouldn't be fair," Kate smirked. "She's still new. Let's give her a chance to get her muscles back before I hurt her."

"In your dreams, Hawk," Sin said with a sniff.

"No ladies, this is not the time or the place," Tony said, suddenly trying to play peacekeeper. "Hawkeye - give the girl a chance to catch up before you wipe the floor with her."

"That's what I said, Tony," Kate said with a smirk.

"Yes, but I'm not saying it shouldn't happen. Let's see... Two weeks from Tuesday. Yes. That should be enough time to start a pool — er … let her catch up, I mean," Tony said with a smirk of his own as he glanced Sin's way. "Unless, of course, you're scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Maybe of facing someone in a fair fight that doesn't have their back turned trying to _help_ you."

Sin rolled her eyes. "Get over it, Stark."

"Believe me, I am," Tony replied. "And PS, _you_ didn't even kill me. HA."

At that, Sin just looked thunderous. "Well, who did?"

"Oh, Tony made it all the way to the final five. With me," Kate said with a wide grin as she seemed to come to Tony's defense. "You hardly left a scratch on either of us, not that I can say the same. How long did you last, again?"

"Guys... we're supposed to be making friends," Cassie said uncertainly, watching the other three with slightly widened eyes.

"Hey, as long as she stays in her lane, we'll be _fine_ ," Kate grumbled out, even as Kurt tugged on her arm to keep her calm.

"Don't oversell yourself," Sin said in Kate's direction, and Kurt very quickly made it a point to tell Kate, loudly, that they were going to the shooting range. He hustled her out of the lounge while Cassie stepped in to ask Sin if she'd seen the pool, just to get her distracted and break up the fight before it could happen too early. Clearly, not every resurrection in Tahiti was going to go as smoothly as they'd had so far.

* * *

 _August 18_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"So," Kurt said as he followed Matt down the hallway. "Where are we going?"

"Gonna work on something new today," Matt said simply. "I think you'll like it." He was grinning quietly to himself as he rounded the corner, and he and Kate very nearly collided with one another as Kate came bursting out of the door, but Matt leapt out of the way just in time.

"Kurt?" she panted when she saw him. Her face was flushed, and her hair was sticking to her forehead with sweat.

"Kate?"

She grinned at him and then at Matt. "Sorry," she told Matt, who waved the apology off. "I'm running late to meet North. I was having too much fun back there," she explained, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the door she'd just come through.

"Yeah, I heard they got a rooftop program set up for sniper training," Matt said with a little nod and a grin.

Kate beamed and nodded. "I'm only at the first level," she admitted. "But I _love_ it."

"What's a rooftop program?" Kurt asked.

"It's a training exercise," Matt explained. "A simulation. You're supposed to try to avoid detection in various situations. Snipers usually get the rooftop programs, though I'm told they're popular with just about everyone."

"You get to jump off of stuff," Kate grinned. She still seemed a little breathless as she waved at Matt. "Seriously, though. I'm late. Gotta go. See you around." She said that last part to Kurt, reaching out to give his hand a small squeeze before she left.

He didn't think she'd even thought about it before she grabbed his hand, but he was certainly thinking about it as he watched her leave.

Matt rapped his shoulder to get his attention. "Kate snagged the room this morning, but I've got us booked for the afternoon. Give me a second." He reached out for a spot that, to Kurt, looked like any other part of the wall, but it slid aside to reveal a keypad at his touch.

Kurt watched as Matt keyed in a few numbers and then grinned. "This is just the prototype. There's a much bigger version of this further down in a whole other wing of the building. Well, there will be. As I understand it, that's one of the things they'll have the geniuses like Stark working on once everyone gets through the Tahiti treatments." Matt had an almost hungry tone to his voice as he added, "I'd love to take a swing at it when it's finished."

Kurt nodded, now very much excited to see what was behind the doors, since it had Kate in such a good mood and Matt so excited. And when he stepped through, he just had to stare for a moment.

It was as if they had created an entirely different cityscape, or at least part of one, in that room. If he was right, it looked like it could be District Five - he could see some heavy power lines that looked like they might have led to a power plant if they'd been in a real district.

He could see how it was a prototype, since the whole thing had a kind of artificial glow like it was painted in midair, and every so often Kurt saw the whole thing shimmer, as if light was drifting through the edges of it.

Still, he had _never_ seen anything like this, and he felt the grin flood his face. "I think I like this place."

Matt grinned back at him. "Yeah, even in the early stages, it seems to be a fan favorite around here."

Kurt had to nod his agreement, looking around the shimmering painted cityscape before he finally turned to face his trainer. "So — what is it we're doing here?"

At that, Matt's grin turned far more excited. "Your job," he said. "Is to try to sneak up on me."

"What?"

"We're working on your stealth, Kurt. I think you might just end up being an expert at it," Matt said. A sly smile spread over his face. "And I don't say that about many people. It's not easy to sneak up on me, so I'd know."

"So," Kurt said, "all I have to do is sneak up on you?"

"If you can touch me before I realize you're there, you win." Matt nodded.

"This sounds suspiciously simple."

Matt smirked. "Give me a thirty second head start, and you'll find out just how much it's _not_."

Kurt watched Matt disappear into a side alley, and then he started to count in his head. _One…two…three…four…_

* * *

 _August 23_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

It wasn't necessarily planned that Steve Rogers and Ororo Munroe would be awakened on the same day, but Ororo's procedure had gone much faster than expected because of Tony's added input. Still, it was a happy coincidence, one that Charles was quick to arrange to take advantage of, especially for the 13-year-old Ororo's sake.

It had actually taken her less time to process where she was and what had happened to her than it took Steve. Cassie had volunteered to be the introductory face for Ororo, since she knew what it was like to be young in the Games and to be thrown into this world, and between Cassie's bright smile and Ororo's ability to handle just about everything, it took next to no time for the two young women to head out to wait for Steve to come out as well so Cassie could take them on a joint tour.

Meanwhile, just down the hall, Charles was present for Steve's awakening, and it was clear Steve had woken up in a distressed state. The finale of this year's Games had not been kind to anyone involved, and with how close that final fight had been, Steve had taken some convincing that he had, in fact, died.

He looked somewhere between relieved and devastated on learning that he hadn't killed Logan. At least he didn't have more blood on his hands, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel like everything he'd set out to do for that final fight, his attempt to make up for what he'd done... had just fallen apart.

But he said none of that, just falling into a bit of a glare, so outside the room, the two waiting girls only knew that he looked upset.

"You know," Cassie mused for a moment. "He's kind of cute."

Ororo turned to the older girl for a moment and looked totally stunned before she just started to giggle. "That's so weird."

"Hey, no shame in looking," Cassie countered with a little laugh. She watched from the other side of the one-way mirror as Charles gently explained to the increasingly devastated-looking Steve what the situation was there.

When Charles glanced to the mirror, Cassie took the hint. "Come on," she urged Ororo. "Let's go say hi."

"Oh," Ororo said, suddenly pausing. "Are you sure that Charles wants us to? Steve looks pretty upset."

But Cassie just flung the door open and all but pushed Ororo in front of her, and all at once, Steve's expression changed. He was clearly holding his breath, staring openly and looking shocked.

"Hello, Captain," Ororo said with a little smile and a wave. "Looks like they decided to bring you back too."

He stared at her openly for a moment before he managed to choke out, "Ro?"

She giggled and nodded as she took a few steps his way, but that was all she managed before he rushed to her and swept her up in a crushing hug, tears streaming down his cheeks until he finally set her down. "Ro, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

"I shouldn't have run away," she said, hugging him tight as both Charles and Cassie moved to give the two of them some room for their reunion.

"I should have paid better attention. You wanted to go after the Careers, and I just wasn't listening."

"I did get one of them," she admitted. "Our trap worked."

"That battery you made me carry all over the arena?" Steve just started to grin at her.

"Yeah," she said with a little smile. "Thor."

"Are you kidding? Were you alright?" he asked her, losing his smile a bit as he remembered how he'd felt after killing Kate. "Taking on one of the Careers…."

"Let's just forget about it," she said quickly, shaking her head before she just hugged him tight all over again. "We don't have to look back at it anymore."

He just hugged her for a moment, clearly still not quite done worrying over her. "I ran into some others. We killed Cletus. I'm just sorry we didn't get there sooner," he told her quietly. "Really — I should have been there."

"Seriously. Let's just forget about all of that," Ororo said with a shudder, and that was enough to get Steve to drop it for the time being.

Cassie watched the reunion with a little smile, shifting her weight back and forth on her toes until she felt like it was appropriate to interrupt. "So!" She leaned forward with a sparkle in her eyes, honestly pleased with how well things were going so far, considering how the last reanimation had gone when Sin was introduced — the redhead _still_ wasn't even trying to make any friends of the other ex-tributes, and it was clear Cassie wanted more people around. "Are you ready for the grand tour?"

"Guess we are," Steve said, seeming to notice that Cassie was there for the first time. "Sorry, I don't think we've been introduced."

"Cassie Lang," she said with a grin as she held her hand out for him to shake. "I was in the Games two years ago, from Twelve. Welcome to the other side, sorta."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss," Steve said as he took her hand with a smile.

"No, no. No, you have to call me Cassie. No. Don't do that," Cassie laughed, shaking her head. "I'm not a 'miss.' I'm, like, two years younger than you. Cassie or Cas if you're lazy." She beamed at him again and didn't really give him time to argue before she jumped into her tour, letting Ororo and Steve follow behind her since it really looked like Steve wasn't going to be more than a couple feet apart from his former partner for a while.

Unlike the earlier tours that Cassie had given, when they got to the training facilities, they were in use. Kurt was working on his hand-to-hand with his trainer, Matt Murdock, and it looked like Kate had finished her usual training out on the gun range and was sparring with Sin. The two girls were _highly_ competitive, so the sight of them giving a sparring session their all really wasn't that unusual and, if anything, only seemed to be honing both of their skills faster.

"And this is where we learn how to take down the stupid people in charge," Cassie said with a bright sort of laugh as she gestured out over the scene.

"Wow," Steve said, staring in awe of the hidden facility, taking in the scope of it for a moment rather than the people in it, though he did seem to get distracted watching Kurt and Matt all but dance around each other as they moved on to short staves. "How long has this been going on?"

"No idea when it all started, but this place has been running for at least four years," Cassie said. "At least, that's the earliest we have people who came back successfully." She looked uncomfortable as she pulled a face and then shrugged. "The facilities, though, I guess these would take forever to build. So, probably longer than that. And — ooh, but the trainers are awesome! We even have some old victors who come to help, when they can. Well, not _too_ old. But everybody sort of has their own track."

"Great, who comes in?" he asked, though he abruptly lost his curiosity about the training as he turned his attention to the intense sparring match further out.

"Oh, Rhodey — James Rhodes from Three, that is. He comes in for flying - Carol convinced him to teach me too — and Bobbi…." Cassie trailed off when she saw the look on Steve's face and followed his gaze.

Steve's eyes had found Kate, who had stopped sparring with Sin the moment she saw the newcomers and spun away from her opponent to head toward Steve, her expression clearly upset — but what Steve hadn't seen was that Kurt had also stopped sparring.

Kurt wasn't looking Steve's way — at least, not at the moment. His gaze was directed at Kate as well, and his expression was angry, but worry lines creased his forehead. Kurt stepped off the mat and strode towards Steve, moving faster and faster as he neared the taller boy. Kurt must have been learning more stealth than he thought, because Steve didn't turn until he was just a few feet away. By that time it was too late, and Kurt hauled off and slugged Steve in the jaw, sending him sprawling.

Kurt stood over the fallen boy, cheeks red with anger. "There was _no need,_ " he hissed. "You didn't have to kill her. You could have let her go."

Steve, understandably, was startled as he rubbed his jaw, though he looked up at Kurt with wide eyes and admitted, "I know."

"Kurt?" Kate called out as she rushed over. "What are you—"

"He could have let you go," he growled, his tone a little softer.

"Kurt, let me — I can handle this," Kate said. She turned her attention to Steve for a moment and found… she got mad all over again. "You didn't pull the arrows out," she told him with real fury in her voice. "It took me _forever_ to — to _die_." With that, she hauled back and punched him flat in the sternum, knocking him to the ground. "Felt like that. But worse." Steve let out a gasp, his hand to his chest.

"Damn. Nice shot, Twelve," Sin chuckled from where Kate had left her behind.

"Alright, guys," Murdock said as he made his way over. "No reason to send him right back to the Tahiti docs. At least give him a few days." He was smirking, though, as he said it, though whether it was because he was just amused in general or because he was proud of the training they were clearly putting to use, it was hard to tell.

Kurt didn't exactly deflate, but his shoulders dropped somewhat. Taking a deep breath, he extended a hand towards Steve, who took it carefully, first making sure it was not headed for his face. That was the extent of Kurt's hospitality for the time being, however, as he stepped away from Steve once the latter was on his feet.

"Soooo." Cassie looked around the group of them. "We… are going to take this tour onwards. _Away_ from the weaponry."

"Good idea," Steve said half under his breath, still looking a bit taken aback by the entire interaction, and rubbing his chest as he let the young blonde pull him and Ororo back through the doors.

"What was that about?" Ororo asked once they were far enough away from the training center that they wouldn't be overheard.

Steve let out a sigh and looked Ororo's way for a moment, but he couldn't hold her gaze. "Kate, Logan, and I were the last three in the arena," he explained.

"Okay," she said slowly. "But — no one was going to get out of there unless you went through the rest, right? They would have done the same thing."

"I should have protected her, 'Ro. She was hurt, and I fought her, and I made the decision. I killed her." His jaw tightened as he looked at the back of Cassie's head, walking a few yards in front of him without quite the bounce in her step that she'd had only a few minutes ago. "Or at least, I could have done it without… well…"

"And Logan killed you," she went on, not hearing his excuses or explanation in the least. "You both died. You paid the price already," she reasoned. "Just like I did."

"That's not — what Cletus did to you was _not_ a price you should _ever_ have to pay," Steve said, staring at her open-mouthed. "No one should. Ever."

"But it still happened," Ororo said. "All of us here died from one thing or another. Not all of them could be so quick."

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to take you by the training room," Cassie halfway muttered, shaking her head at both of them.

"Better it was there on the softer floor than in the swimming pool where he could have drowned or cracked his skull open on the tile," Ororo said dryly.

Cassie couldn't help but grin at that and nodded. "Yeah, well, we don't usually have this kind of problem. Nobody they've brought back has ever killed each other before. The most drama we've had was Kate and Sin tried to take each other down, and Sin _tried_ to do Tony in, but that didn't work… There's a lot of firsts this year." She took Steve by the arm. "Don't worry — Kate and Kurt usually get along with everyone, so … I don't know. It'll get better." She looked at him sympathetically. "You still feel bad about it?"

"You said there was more to this tour?" Steve asked pointedly, and Cassie scrunched her nose at him for a moment before she nodded and led them onward.


	9. The Left Hand Doesn't Know

**Notes: Yes, we're slowly gathering the family, but it's not going to be all snuggles and warmth just yet. We have time; we'll get to the 'big happy family' portion of the story… eventually. This is the universe with the death games, though :P**

 **Silz, we're so glad that you enjoyed the chapter! Your Sin is so much fun to work with, and we really are glad that you were able to lend your voice to get this universe's Sin on the right track and give her that special Silz touch!**

 **And now here we are, back with the first update of the new year, and a whole lot more growing pains!**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: The Left Hand Doesn't Know What the Right Is Doing**

* * *

 _August 23_

 _Essex Laboratories_

* * *

Natasha knew that she was not the only one in this place, but she had been told to keep to herself, and that was exactly what she did, concentrating on building her strength, on learning from her mistakes in the Games.

She hadn't been prepared for failure. She realized that now. She had simply never considered the option that anyone could defeat her, and her tousle with the boy from Seven had rocked her worldview. Dying in the Games, waking up strapped down and unable to move, living her every moment under heavy guard and surveillance, with the knowledge that the slightest wrong move would prompt those in charge to put her on the ground — she was becoming accustomed to the taste of failure.

All she had to do now was learn from it and find a way to use it to her advantage.

This had to be some kind of punishment for her failure in the Games, she had decided. The Red Room had always considered failure to be worse than death, so this afterlife, this near servitude had to be their way of correcting it.

She wondered how many others who had died after the Red Room sent them into the Games ended up here. She had seen other cells like her own, so she knew she wasn't alone. She wondered if Dottie, her old mentor, was here from a few years ago.

But she had been told to keep to herself, so she had no way of knowing who they had. Until she had a better understanding of what was expected of her, she would keep to her cell and to her strength training. The Red Room would provide the rest of what was expected.

Her cell was bare, with only what was strictly necessary and nothing that she could use as a weapon. A mattress on the floor — no frame with which to build a weapon. Enough space to move around. A single barred window. There were bathroom facilities down the hall, not in her cell.

That was smart — the girls in the Red Room knew how to make weapons out of anything, even the springs in the mattress — though Natasha was careful to keep the slight incision in her mattress hidden from view. She would use the springs if she needed to, but since Windsor was Red Room, she didn't see any reason to — yet. Not unless he decided to kill her himself rather than let his little device do the work for him.

There was a buzzer that meant someone outside the room was coming in, and Natasha stopped her stretches to stand at the far back wall — that was protocol. They seemed to think if they put some distance between her and _anyone,_ that would help the if she ever did decide to kill them.

Although she had been expecting Windsor, she was a bit surprised when the man who _wheeled_ through the door was instead one of the victors from the Capitol. Charles Xavier. She'd studied his Games in the Red Room to learn about manipulation and tactics.

"Miss Romanoff," Charles said with a warm smile as his greeting. "So good to see you up and about."

"I've been up and about for a while," she said, regarding him warily. She had no idea why the Red Room had asked him there, but whatever the test was, she was sure she could pass.

"Oh?" he said, looking honestly surprised to hear it. "Then I apologize for not coming to you sooner."

"If I'd known it was necessary, I'd have requested it," she said, still wary. "I'm ready to get out of here and get moving, whatever it is you want me to do."

"I'm sure you are," Charles replied as he let his shoulders relax a bit. "But our concern is that your training from the Red Room may be a bit too entrenched."

She raised an eyebrow at that and took the slightest of steps away from him. "That's what you want, isn't it? You need my talents — or I wouldn't be alive."

"That's not exactly right," Charles said. "We do need your talents … but we also need your loyalty."

"The Red Room has always had my loyalty," she said in rote response.

"Which is the core of our problem."

She just pursed her lips and frowned at him. "I don't understand. You have my talents and my loyalty. You restrict my movements and watch me every second. What more do you want?"

"My dear girl, we are not the Red Room," Charles told her genuinely.

Her eyes widened for just a moment before she got it back under control, and she simply stilled. This time, she took another few seconds to size him up with her new understanding. Windsor hadn't sent him — that much was clear. The question now was: who did?

"Would I be correct in assuming that you've been approached by someone with those connections?"

"No." She held his gaze and gave nothing away. "No, it was just my mistake."

He watched her for a moment and kept that enigmatic smile in place. "I'm afraid I don't believe you."

She scrunched up her nose and frowned at him. Not Red Room, nothing she recognized — and from Ten. What did he _want_? Finally, she just decided to slump against the wall, slide down, and pull her knees up to her forehead and do her best to look small and defeated.

He watched her act for a moment but didn't fall into any of the usual reactions like concern or pity. "When you're done playing games, we can get started," Charles said, unperturbed.

She looked up at him with practiced tears streaming down her face. "Let me go," she said in a quavering whisper. "What do you want with me?"

"I would like for you to be able to think for yourself for the first time in your young life," he replied.

So he was going to play the compassion card. Natasha just nodded a bit and let her lip quiver on purpose.

"Miss Romanoff, I watched you behind the scenes in the Captiol. Although you are certainly a talented actress — you're not _that_ good."

The quivering and tears stopped in an instant, and she just straightened up, chin jutted out and honestly _insulted_. "You won't fill my head with your orders. I know how to keep you out."

"I don't have any orders to fill your head with, and I don't want in. I just would like to see _them_ out."

"I'm afraid I just don't believe you," she said, now mirroring his own serene smile as she straightened up even taller.

"Of course you don't," he said with a little wave. "Why would you? But ... I am prepared to simply take as much time as you need to convince you otherwise." He paused and leaned forward a bit. "And I'm sure you know now … your tricks won't work with me either."

"You should be in your own district," she said.

"Do you plan to report me?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes. "I am here because director Fury asked me to be."

"The Capitol, then." Natasha frowned.

"SHIELD."

"The same thing."

"Not as close as you'd think," he replied. "On the surface, yes … but I'm sure you realized that we are far from the surface."

"Yes, all the air is pumped down, and the walls have condensation at the edges," she said with a nod.

"Metaphorically as well," he said. "I just hope you'll make progress enough to train with the others sooner rather than later."

She tipped her head to the side. "I wasn't close to anyone in the Red Room," she lied. "Anyone you brought back can't be used against me."

"It's not a threat, Miss Romanoff. I genuinely would like you train with the others," he said. "I think you could teach them — and they could do the same for you."

"So that's what you need. A trainer."

"No, we have plenty of trainers," Charles said softly. "But I know that you have tried for years to distance yourself from people, as every girl that has gone through the Red Room has done. And like every girl that has served them — you fell apart under pressure. That was what they did to you."

"I've already been through the tapes. I know where I made my mistakes. I wasn't prepared for failure," she said shortly. "That is not a problem anymore."

"You weren't prepared to accept help from others either," he corrected.

"And _you_ want to help me," she said with a sneer. "Out of the kindness of your heart."

"Yes, actually," he said, no hint of a lie anywhere on him. "Far better than what Essex does."

Natasha just started to laugh, genuinely. "You're a good actor too."

"I'm not acting," Charles replied. "As much as you wish that I was."

She just shook her head, still chuckling at the idea. "You're a victor. You're not from the inner districts. And you have spent two decades in the Capitol, or SHIELD, or whatever you want to distinguish them by. You have nothing I want."

"And you've spent your young life acting as a pawn for those that wish to use you."

"Haven't you done the same?" she shot back, eyes flashing.

"I've been trapped, while you've chosen your cage."

"What others see as a cage are merely guard rails," she recited half under her breath. "To keep the path."

"As it's been drilled into your head. Why else would anyone believe those lies? A cage is a cage, and there is no freedom while you live with a choke chain on your neck. You continue to choose it."

"And you expect me to choose your chains instead." She sneered at him and shook her head. "I don't believe it."

"What I'd like, is to get your help to _destroy_ all the chains," he replied with that little smile before he let out a weary sigh. "But I can see you prefer your cage. I can only hope that your old district partner will choose better."

She paused and searched his face for any sign of a lie. "He didn't win, then. Of course he didn't," she said with as much disdain as she could muster.

"He gave his life to protect another," Charles said softly, watching her reaction as her expression had changed entirely at the mention of Clint — despite her best efforts. "He died a hero."

She couldn't help but smirk. "Don't tell him that. You'll inflate his head."

"It's the truth," he replied. "Do you think I should lie to him to save him from an overinflated sense of purpose?"

"He already has that, or he would have killed me sooner," Natasha pointed out. "SAFE doesn't train their fighters to make the hard decisions."

"Then he should fit in with the others — who make those hard decisions without much thought."

"You want to use him too," Natasha said with a frown.

"I want him to help us overthrow Thanos, and then live a long, happy, free life," Charles said. He gave her a soft sort of smile as he added, "I feel like he'd do well with a dog and some kids."

"Under your rule."

"No," he said, shaking his head gently. "No system like there is now. Something new that puts the power into the hands of the people."

She laughed derisively. "People are stupid. Sheep. Weak."

"When kept in the dark and in pens — like all the districts are — yes. But they carry strength and power in numbers."

"Mob mentality." She crossed her arms. "You talk about freedom but call on the masses — and I've noticed there are still armed guards on all our cells. You want Clint to have a dog and kids?" She had raised her voice, something she had simply never done since she woke up in this place. "Where exactly will he keep them in your prison?"

Charles didn't seem moved by her outburst, though he was watching her reaction carefully. "Miss Romanoff, no one knows that you are alive," he explained. "When the time is right — and we can strike Thanos down … we will move. And when it's done, you'll be free to choose where you'd like to live out your days — unguarded."

"Nothing like this is ever temporary," she said, gesturing at the cell.

"It is my genuine hope that you're wrong in that," he said.

She tipped her head at him and narrowed her eyes. "You're just another pawn then. You have no idea how long they plan to use you or me." She shot him a brilliant smile. " _Your_ cage is gilded, Charles Xavier. You just can't see it because you believe their lies about the possibility of _peace_ when they mean subjugation instead."

"I've tried my whole life to do this peacefully, but I've finally come to see that simply is not in the cards." His gaze hardened. "I won't allow this miscarriage of justice to stand much longer. Even if you refuse to help us, we will do this without you."

When Natasha's only response was to glare at him, trying to work out what game he was trying to play, Charles let out a long sigh and tipped his head her way. "I'll see you soon, Miss Romanoff. If you feel the desire to speak with me before then — feel free to ask for me." With that, Charles left the young woman in her cell to think about all he'd told her.

It took him longer to leave that section of the Tahiti wing than it usually took him, because of the additional security measures, and when he did hit the hallway connecting the two separate divisions, it was to find a young woman with long, dark hair giving him a little smile and a wave.

"Hi — Professor Xavier, right?"

He just smiled warmly as he nodded his head. "You can call me Charles," he replied. "What can I do for you?"

"Coulson asked me to get you if I spotted any problems on surveillance," she explained with a slightly nervous smile. "And, well, there's a fight in the training room."

"Lead the way," he said, already on the move toward the training room.

She just nodded and hurried along beside him. "This probably isn't the time, but I'm Skye, by the way. It's nice to meet you in person. I wasn't sure when to stop by for introductions, since I'm still not sure what Coulson wants me doing here…"

"The pleasure is all mine," Charles said with a smile. "You're new, aren't you?"

"Brand spanking," she agreed. Her eyes were wide and held absolutely nothing back, the exact opposite of the young woman he'd just finished speaking with. "This was my first year working on the Games. And I didn't find out about, um, the rest of us until really recently. It's kind of … nuts."

"Disorienting is what I tell the re-animated ones," Charles said with a little laugh.

"Yeah, well, whatever you call it, it kind of creeps me out a bit," Skye said as she and Charles made their way through the Tahiti security measures.

"Me too," he agreed.

They finally reached the training room, but whatever the disturbance had been, it looked like it was done now, as the only one there was Sinthea, still stretching and cooling down after her own training session.

"Miss Schmidt," Charles called out. "Would you be so kind as to direct me to the troublemakers?"

"Which ones?" Sin asked without looking his way.

Charles looked up at Skye for a moment before he smiled Sin's way. "The ones fighting."

Sin just shrugged, completely unconcerned. "Seemed to me like he deserved it," she said.

"What happened?" he asked, though he already had a fair idea that the trouble would be in his office. The trouble was _always_ in his office.

"Steve Rogers woke up this morning," Skye cut in, since it was abundantly clear Sin wasn't going to give him anything — she was too entertained by the fight. "And Kate Bishop and Kurt Wagner hit him."

"Ah. that explains everything," Charles said before he turned away from the training room to call over his shoulder. "Thank you for your assistance, Miss Schmidt. Skye, you've been quite helpful. I'll take it from here."

"Good luck!" Skye called after him with a little wave.

It was no surprise at all when, a few minutes later, Charles found the two troublemakers waiting for him in his office — likely sent there by their trainers. They had been talking quietly, but when the door opened, both of them fell silent, looking very much the part of chastised children.

"What did you think that you would accomplish by attacking Mr. Rogers?" Charles asked the two former tributes sitting sheepishly in his office.

"It made _me_ feel better," Kate muttered, tucking her feet underneath the chair as she looked down at her hands.

"I imagine it did," Charles said, "but what _good_ did it do?"

Kurt sighed. "None," he mumbled.

"We won't do it again ... probably," Kate assured Charles, though of the two of them, she was the least apologetic and seemed to be more upset that Kurt was in trouble with her than anything else, as she kept sneaking glances at the young man.

"Probably," Charles said, shaking his head at her word choice.

"How am I _supposed_ to react to the guy that stuck a handful of arrows in my chest?"

"Would you have rather it had been Logan who fought you?" Charles asked her outright. "Or that you'd won and Creed's threats came to pass?"

The two of them fell silent. "I...I didn't really think about the other options that were available when I hit him," Kurt said quietly, the first to find his voice. "None were really preferable, but…"

"Kate?" Charles prompted, trying to pull her into the discussion.

For a moment, it seemed she would try to stay out of the discussion by remaining silent, but when both Charles and Kurt waited for her answer, she let out all of her breath at once. "Well, of _course_ I didn't want it to be Logan. Or for any of that stuff with Creed… But still." She rearranged herself in her chair and shifted uncomfortably. "I mean. You don't know what it's like to slowly die because some kid didn't know how to… You just don't know."

Charles just watched her with a raised eyebrow as she slowly went quiet. "Did it seem as if he felt guilty at all?"

"Charles, he felt bad when he was in the _middle of killing me_. That's not the point," she grumped.

"I know," Charles replied. "And I sympathize with you." He watched her in silence for a moment as she thought it over before, gently, he asked, "How is your hand? Did you hurt yourself? Either of you?"

"I'm _fine_ ," Kate insisted, but Charles' distraction had clearly worked as she leaned over toward Kurt, took a peek, and said, "Oh, Kurt, blue isn't your color," when she saw the slight bruising on his knuckles.

Kurt let out a little huff of a laugh. "You're mistaken; I looked _fabulous_ in blue during the tribute parade."

Kate's earlier bad mood just evaporated as she had to giggle at that. "Yes, that's true. That's what made me notice you in the first place."

"If the two of you feel as if you've been properly shamed, then I will send you on your way with the reminder that the rest of the staff has no intentions to humor the flirting," Charles said, his eyes sparkling with ill-hidden laughter at their antics. "Though you may, of course, feel free to express yourselves as you wish here. Within reason."

"Don't worry, we remember the rules," Kate said, though with a troublemaking gleam in her eyes. "Like your rule about not recording our sessions with you so we have some privacy and can say what we need."

"Doctor patient confidentiality is important," Charles said with a smirk.

Kate just grinned at that and reached over to pull Kurt's hand into hers and more properly look over the bruising on his knuckles before she just tutted at him. "Let's get you some ice or something," she said before she glanced at Charles, grinned, and then kissed the top of Kurt's hand before they left.

* * *

 _August 25th_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Carol and Rhodey finished their flight instruction and lingered over the post-flight checklist, using any excuse not to leave the hangar just yet. In the camera-sheltered spot behind the plane, he had one hand on her cheek, taking her very gently into a long kiss — but she had both of her arms hooked around him as she always wanted to kiss him _just_ that much longer.

Still, as was always the case, the kiss broke too soon for her liking, and the two split apart, both of them a bit breathless and grinning as Rhodey glanced at the digital clock in the hangar. "Alright, I guess I have to share you with the other instructors," he teased, and she smirked at him and stole one more quick kiss.

"I know — it's such an imposition," she said in a breathy whisper as her fingers walked up his chest, and he shook his head at her as the two of them shared 'just one more' kiss. _Again_.

When they did finally emerge from behind the jet, though, they didn't look the least bit suspicious — just an instructor and his student chatting easily as he walked with her to the training room for some fight training.

"Everyone adjusting okay?" Rhodey asked as they walked, and Carol shrugged in response.

"As okay as can be expected," she admitted, "considering where we were right before they brought us back."

Rhodey rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously as he nodded. "Yeah."

Carol paused and tipped her head his way, watching his frown for a moment before she bumped his shoulder with hers and gave him a little smile. "Hey, stop looking like that. You're too good-looking to waste it on long faces," she teased, which had him grinning all over again.

"You're ridiculous."

She grinned to match him, the smile stretching up to her eyes, not saying a word until he finally broke into a little laugh at her antics.

"Really, James, I think we're all doing … better," Carol said at last, coming back to his original question — although that idea was almost immediately disproven when they got to the training room to find that Kate and Sin were in the middle of another _highly_ competitive sparring session.

It wasn't the first time the two girls had gone toe to toe, nor was it the first time they'd done so with an audience, but Rhodey hadn't ever seen one of their matches firsthand. He couldn't hold back his concern when he saw that they weren't holding anything back, as Sin, a little over two years Kate's elder, managed to get the smaller girl in a pin with one arm hooked around her chest.

Kate managed to kick Sin's legs out and reverse the hold, pinning Sin's arms for a moment, but Rhodey had seen the moment of panic at being unable to draw a breath, and he knew that this was a little more dangerous than any _training_.

"Excuse me," he muttered to Carol before he headed back down the hallway at a jog toward Charles Xavier's office.

As soon as Charles let him in, the young victor just pointed back out the door, accentuating the point as his finger bounced with nearly every word as he asked, "Do you know what's going on in the training room right now?"

Charles startled at the look on Rhodey's face, surprised to find him there. "What's happening down there?" he asked.

"Sin and Kate…" He trailed off and shook his head.

To Rhodey's surprise, Charles began to smile the slightest bit. "Ah, yes. I've heard about their sparring sessions. Believe it or not, it _is_ helping the two of them to work out their differences. Neither of them is well-accustomed to losing."

"It's not going to help _either_ of them if they end up killing each other," Rhodey pointed out.

Charles pursed his lips at the declaration, his hands folded underneath his chin before he let out a long breath. "Perhaps a visit to the training room is in order," he said simply.

Rhodey slipped behind Charles to wheel him down the hall to the training room so they could get there faster, and when they arrived, Kate and Sin were still going at it — clearly well-matched as neither of them could get the upper hand for long at all ... which was why they were fighting so dirty in the first place.

Charles glanced over at Rhodey, who gestured at the fight as if to say, "See?" The older victor just shook his head lightly before he raised his voice the slightest bit. "Kate, Sin!" he called out, and then a few more times — to no avail. It wasn't until he called out with their full names — "Katherine, Sinthea!" — that they even paused to look his way.

Kate at least had the sense to look slightly abashed, though Sin just took that opportunity to get Kate well and truly pinned, grinning triumphantly as she jutted her chin out Charles' direction. "What's the matter? I thought we were _supposed_ to be learning to fight?" she challenged him over the top of Kate's head.

"You are," Charles said, shaking his head as he watched Kate try to wriggle out from underneath Sin for a moment. "But you are also supposed to be learning to work together as a _team_."

"Hey." Sin smirked down at Kate and finally stepped back to let her up. "I'm just testing out the limits of my _teammate_."

"Don't lie to Charles; he can tell," Kate countered as she climbed to her feet and pulled a face at Sin. Both girls were red-faced and panting, sweaty and clearly nursing a few minor injuries from elbows and other dirty tricks.

"There is nothing wrong with healthy competition," Charles told both girls with a severe look. "But _brawling_ is expressly forbidden."

The girls glanced at each other for a second before they broke into identical troublemaking grins. "Who's _brawling_?" Kate asked innocently.

Charles raised a single eyebrow at both of them before he just carefully folded his hands in front of himself. "In any case," he said carefully, "I understand that both of you are ready to begin leaving this place to run missions." He waited for a moment for both of them to digest that revelation before he added, "It would be tragic if either of you were unable to do so because you took a _sparring_ match too far and wound up in Medical instead of in the field."

The two girls glanced at each other, and Charles could see the silent discussion even from where he sat. They clearly sized up their options and each other before they shared the slightest of nods — and that was all Charles needed to see.

"If that is all, I do have an appointment I need to get to," he said, looking toward Rhodey, who grinned at him.

"Nice work," Rhodey muttered under his breath as he wheeled Charles out of the room.

Charles shook his head. "They both do better resolving their problems with action — they simply need the reminder of who their enemies are," he said.

"This has never been an issue before, though — bringing back kids who killed each other, or even just tried to," Rhodey pointed out.

Charles' expression grew sad for a moment as he thought about it. "Yes, well, that is my next appointment," he admitted. "I had planned to speak with Mr. Rogers today."

"Good luck with that," Rhodey told him as they reached his office. "Kid carries a whole lotta guilt on his shoulders."

"I'm aware," Charles said before he let out a long sigh. "Thank you, James."

"Anytime. Let me know if you need anything else."

* * *

 _August 26_

 _Triskellion_

* * *

Ever since May had offered to start training Skye, the newest member of Coulson's team had decided that May was far and away the better teacher, even if Ward was her SO.

Still, that didn't mean she was getting out of training with her SO. Unlike May, Ward seemed to _enjoy_ getting her up before her first cup of coffee so that she was off her game. He seemed to take a perverse delight in repeatedly reminding her that missions could come in at any time of the day or night, and she had to be ready to fight not just when she was comfortable, but when the situation called for it.

She was pretty sure that was crap. More likely he was keeping her off her game because she was getting much better at hitting stuff with May than she was with him.

So when Skye's alarm clock went off that morning and she dragged herself out of bed to head down to the gym, she wondered if she was just too tired to process what she saw. Ward, her SO, carefully closing a door behind him, gym bag in hand to head to ... _Wait. That's not his room…is it?_

Skye blinked a couple times and shook her head to try and wake up, but yes — that was definitely May's door. What the heck.

She hadn't even had a sip of coffee, but she was already significantly more awake than she had been, just trying to wrap her brain around what she'd seen. She just… couldn't. She couldn't do it.

 _May and Ward._

Nope, she couldn't wrap her head around it.

She was still shaking her head to herself as she got to the gym, somehow not at all surprised that Ward was there and ready to go. Not looking the _least_ as if he'd just come out of Melinda May's bedroom. Before he could launch into whatever lecture he was going to give her this time — it was possible he'd get onto her about anything from gun safety to the fact that she was perpetually tardy — she just _had_ to get it off her chest.

"How long has _that_ been going on?" she blurted out.

Ward blinked at her wide-eyed stare for a moment — doing a really good impersonation of a guy who had no idea what was going on. "How long has _what_ been going on?"

"You and the Cavalry, smart guy!"

A satisfied sort of smirk crept around the corners of his expression before he seemed to get it under control, shrugging broadly. "Since a little after the Games, not that it's any of your business."

"Which Games? Because there have been a lot of them, and I wouldn't put it past you to—"

His eyes rolled. "The most recent ones."

Skye sized him up for a moment, her lips pursed as she thought it over. "I just didn't take you for the secret liaison kind of guy," she said at last.

"Her idea," Ward admitted with a light shrug before he gave her a sly smirk. "You think I haven't wanted to tell people I snagged the _Cavalry_?"

"See, now you've gone and made it weird," she said, shaking her head at him.

"I'm not the one spying on other people, Skye," he pointed out. "What were you even doing spying on me — or May — anyway?"

"I wasn't!" she argued, hands on her hips as she let out her breath in frustration. "I was minding my own business. Trying to get an early start. _You're_ the one who's not as sneaky as he thinks he is!"

At that, Ward smirked even more widely. "Well then, maybe that's what we should start working on — infiltration and sneaking around."

"You're the one who needs help on that front, not me," she pointed out. " _I_ caught _you_ , remember?"

"So you caught me once. But how long did it take?" he shot back. "And besides, I'm not concerned about you catching me. _You_ need to be able to do the infiltrations too."

She frowned at him, her hands still on her hips as she considered the point. "Hang on. Did you want me to catch you? Are you trying to get the 'secret' out there, one way or another? Because if May doesn't want—"

"That's not it. I just… I got sloppy. Once."

She couldn't quite tell, but it seemed that the color rose in his cheeks. Narrowing her eyes, she decided to let it go — but only for the moment. "I still think you're _so_ not sneaky enough to teach me _anything_ ," she said at last.

He grinned wider at that and shook his head. "You'd be surprised," he said with a smile she didn't quite understand. "Come on, let's run through your gun drills before we start anything new."

* * *

 _August 27_

 _Tahiti Training Room_

* * *

When Steve got to the training room, most of the other kids were already working on their own training — Kurt with Matt, Kate with Bobbi, Carol sparring with Cassie and encouraging her on what she had learned… so Steve headed to the weights to do some lifting, keeping half an eye on the rest of the group.

Charles' advice was still ringing in his head — the older victor had suggested to Steve that if he ever wanted to get past the guilt he was carrying around, he would have to try "a different form of redress." Which Steve was pretty sure meant Charles wanted him to talk to Kate.

That was much easier said than done, though. He had seen how Kate and Sin were around each other, and they hadn't even fought to the death. He didn't exactly want to find out what Kate would do to someone who had wronged her even _more_.

Ororo told him he was overthinking it, that he was mistaking competitiveness for outright hatred, but she hadn't seen how vicious the two of them were in sparring with each other, so he just shook his head at her whenever it came up in conversation and let it go.

But now that he'd let it go for a few days, he was starting to think maybe he should at least give Kate the chance to hit him. Maybe if he offered to spar with her….

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed it when Kate finished up with Bobbi and was headed out the door — and he had to run to catch up to her, which ended up earning him a hard look from Kurt. Those two weren't 'officially' dating, but even Steve could see that they were together, and Kurt was clearly protective of Kate.

"Something I can do for you?" Kate asked with her head tipped to one side as Steve caught up with them.

"Actually," Steve said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I was wondering if I could borrow you as a sparring partner."

Both of Kate's eyebrows went up, and Kurt stepped the slightest bit forward, putting himself between Kate and Steve. "Why not someone like Carol?" Kurt asked, clearly suspicious of Steve's motives.

"Carol's made it her mission to teach Ororo and Cassie how to fight," Steve pointed out, gesturing toward where the two blonde girls were fighting as Carol showed Cassie a move she had learned from Rhodey to get out of an arm hold.

Kurt followed Steve's gaze, but Kate kept hers on Steve as she pursed her lips while she thought it over. "I guess I could teach you a thing or two," she said with the slightest of smirks. "You've only been back for a few days, after all."

Steve let the jibe pass as he smiled her way and nodded, though as he followed Kate to the mat, he noticed that Kurt didn't leave the training room. Instead, the boy sat down on a bench nearby with his water bottle clasped in both hands in front of him, watching the two of them intently. The message was obvious: if Steve did anything that he didn't like or that Kate didn't like, Kurt wasn't going to let him get away with it.

Luckily, Steve had absolutely no intentions of so much as hurting Kate's feelings, and as the two of them took up starting positions to spar, he even gave them both a tired sort of smile. "You're probably better at this than I am, with how much practice you've had while I've been dead," he told Kate.

She smirked at him. "Already making your excuses for when you lose?"

Steve blinked at her in surprise before he shook his head. "No — I just…" He shook his head and tried for a sideways smile. "What about if I win?"

"Now that's just crazy talk," Kate said flippantly. "You only got lucky once, Steve."

He frowned at the shot but didn't say anything, deciding that just agreeing with her was going to be the better strategy to keep himself out of trouble, before Kate led out with the first punch, and the sparring session got started.

He had been right to suggest that she would have a leg up in training, as it was clear the two weeks she had been working with Bobbi before Steve had even come back to life were paying off, not to mention all the rough sparring she had been doing with Sin.

It wasn't like fighting the scared little girl in the Games, even though that just felt like a few days ago for Steve. This time, she knew where to put her blows, and Steve found that without his shield, he was doing all he could just to keep up with her.

But he actually preferred it that way. He didn't want it to feel like the last time they fought, when it had been all desperation. This was a much better matchup, and for a while, he just focused on keeping up with her as the two of them sparred.

They had fairly similar fighting styles, too — at least when it came to hand to hand. If they'd been armed like they had been in the Games, this would have been an entirely different fight, but with nothing but their bare fists to aid them ... this was actually kind of fun.

Of course, as soon as he thought that, Steve felt Kate's hands on his arm just a second before he hit the mat; she had thrown him over her shoulder and was already moving to pin him there, one knee on his arm before he quite realized what was happening — and before she did either.

She grinned down at him in triumph at her pin, but the second they locked gazes, something changed as it was suddenly just… too familiar. Whether it was the way she had him pinned, the triumphant look — whatever it was, both of them felt it, and in an instant, both of them had scrambled to their feet, the sparring session clearly over.

Of course, this just had Steve feeling horrible all over again as he watched Kate wave off Kurt's concern even as she had one hand on the wall and was taking deep, centering breaths, one hand on the center of her chest. She might have been awake for two weeks, but to her, that just meant her own death had only been two weeks ago. And that still wasn't enough time.

And Steve had been the one to kill her, no matter what the circumstances had been. It was his fault, and he knew it as he watched her take deep breaths.

His own heart was hammering in his chest, and every time he blinked, he could see blood and could hear a cannon booming in his ears, and he sat down heavily on the bench, trying to take in air for himself.

He almost flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he was surprised to see that it was Kurt, who was frowning with concern. "Are you alright?" Kurt asked quietly.

Surprised, Steve could only nod. "I'll be fine," he promised, though that didn't do much to assuage Kurt's concerns, it seemed, as the younger boy just watched him harder for a long moment.

"It takes everyone a long time to recover from what the Games took from us," Kurt said, his gaze alternating between Steve and Kate as Kate finally sat down on his other side, clearly trying not to act like it was a big deal. "Have you been talking with Charles?"

Steve nodded, though he was watching Kate now instead of Kurt. "Yeah, he's been helpful."

"He's nice enough," Kate agreed, meeting his gaze as she took in a deep, cleansing breath. "Sorry, Steve — guess I didn't realize…" She let the sentence drop along with her gaze, and he just nodded.

He took a deep breath, meaning to tell her that it was fine, that he was the one who should have realized sparring was a bad idea, but instead, he blurted out, "Kate, I'm sorry."

Kate's head popped up, and the tightness around her eyes made Steve's stomach turn for a moment as he realized she was still remembering that fight in the Games. He'd been apologizing then, too, hadn't he?

But now that he'd said it, he couldn't turn back, and he just… "I'm sorry. If I'd met you earlier in the Games, I would have made sure… I never wanted to kill anyone, Kate. I would have tried to keep you alive. I wanted to…" He trailed off as he struggled to find the words. "I'm sorry — I took the coward's way out."

Kate watched him struggle through the confession with suddenly bright eyes, and the training room seemed to ring with abnormal silence as he waited for the inevitable, for her to yell at him, to blame him — and he wouldn't blame her in the least for being mad at him. It hadn't been a nice death for her; he hadn't even managed that much…

But all of a sudden, she'd reached forward and grabbed one of his hands with a small, sad sort of smile. "Have you been beating yourself up about this the whole time?" she asked quietly.

He glanced up at her for a moment before he simply nodded, and her expression melted entirely.

"Steve…" She shook her head. "Don't. Just… don't."

"I should have—"

But Kate held a hand up, shaking her head again. "Steve, I am the _queen_ of 'I should have's when it comes to the Games, and let me tell you what Kurt keeps telling me." She glanced at her young protector and gave him a smile before she looked back at Steve. "It was the Games. We were all in positions we'd never be in otherwise." She dropped her hold on his hand as she pushed herself to her feet, took a deep breath, and smoothed out the fabric of her shirt. "Now — if you cross me ever again? I'll kill you dead."

Steve shook his head earnestly. "I'm not planning on crossing you, I promise," he said, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Then I think…" She paused and seemed to size him up before she nodded once, sharply. "Yes, I think I can work with you."

Kurt grinned up at Kate for a moment before he looked between the other two former tributes and cleared his throat. "So, would you like to sit with us today at lunch, Steve?" he asked politely. "It seems we have a lot of catching up to do. We hardly know anything about you other than what happened in the Games, and if we're moving past that…"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Steve agreed quickly. "What do you want to know?"

Steve wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing that Kate's entire expression lit up as she told him with relish, "Oh, everything."


	10. Thicker Than Water

**Notes: Here we are, back with another chapter, and we're pretty darn excited about this one! It's time for these kids to get a field test… and full props to CC for the beautiful title, which is so fitting. For so many reasons. Seriously.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10 Thicker Than Water**

* * *

 _August 31_

 _Research Labs in the Tahiti Wing_

* * *

It had been a week since the last time anyone woke up in the Tahiti program, and Tony was starting to despair of the idea that anyone else could come back. Pym, McCoy, Temple, even Essex had all said that it was just a setback, that it was temporary, but as self-confident as Tony usually was, it was hard to feel that way today of all days.

Today, Pepper would have been eighteen.

It was a little thing, a birthday. It wasn't like he would have done anything with her, considering how the last two years had gone. She had always ignored him — and why did he think this year would have been any different?

But before the accident, it hadn't been like that. He would have stayed up late into the night and well into the morning putting the finishing touches on a gift of some kind for her, presenting it to her with all the enthusiasm of a coffee-fueled and sleep-deprived genius.

Now, he was staying up late into the night and well into the morning trying desperately to find a way to help bring back the kids who had died in the worst ways in the Games.

 _Some birthday present._

It wasn't like they hadn't made progress. The other lab rats had told him even bringing back people like Steve and Kate had been leaps and bounds more than last year, and the pair of science geeks that everyone just called Fitzsimmons — Tony still hadn't managed to figure out which was Fitz and which was Simmons — had been particularly excited by Ororo's resurrection.

Tony was actually pretty proud of that one, too, because they'd been able to give her both of her eyes. Sure, the second one was a bionic replacement, but he didn't think even Ororo knew that. Sure, she'd noticed that she suddenly had two working eyes, but he didn't think she quite knew all the _possibilities_ , though Tony hadn't quite figured out the best way to approach that conversation. He couldn't exactly picture himself strolling up and saying, "Hey, I want to borrow your eye and upgrade it for you when you get the chance."

Or maybe he would do just that. He could. After all, Tony had worked for three days straight making it as close to the real thing as possible. He wished he could say that he had done it all out of the goodness of his heart — or even just because of the challenge of it all — but the truth was, he couldn't help but think of someone else who had been mutilated by Cletus Kasady….

Unfortunately, Tony wasn't actually allowed to see the list of people he was working on, even if he was working his butt off on the process, on the technology, trying to get it refined to the point that they wouldn't run out of vibranium in the middle of a revival. That was the real problem with bringing back the harder cases — they couldn't just pause halfway through a resurrection to replace burnt-out components. So until recently, when they finally figured out how to be a little more efficient, how to refine the process a little better, it just wasn't possible to bring back tough cases. They'd just die all over again on the operating table, and the process wasn't supposed to be used twice. Apparently, that could lead to an irreparable psychological break — Charles and Essex both had been insistent on that point, and when those two agreed on _anything_ , that had to be _big_.

But he had a few ideas about just who was coming back all the same. And he had a few hopes about even more _possibilities_.

And even if Pepper wasn't on the list… But, no, she _had_ to be. He was _sure_ that was who Essex was referring to in his cryptic little psych sessions with Tony. There was just nobody else who was that badly damaged, and Essex was always delightedly talking about the possibilities "if" they could save someone who needed that much putting back together.

Tony was pretty sure that was the freakiest part of what he was doing — having to deal with the overly-excited scientists on the medical side of things. It was one thing to work on the tech and know what it was being used for, but he did _not_ think he could handle being the one to actually… well. The name Frankenstein came to mind for most of this stuff.

The computer to his left chimed to let Tony know that it had finished crunching the numbers for him, and Tony let out a long, loud sound of frustration when he checked over the results. _No, no_ — _that wouldn't work at all._

He had both hands balled up in his hair as he leaned into the screen, going over his calculations with a fine-toothed comb and trying to find something, anything, that he could improve. He knew he was close; he could just _feel_ it.

"Phew. When was the last time you left this room?" asked a new voice as the door opened, stirring up the stale air of Tony's little workshop as Jan slipped in, waving a hand in front of her nose.

Tony glanced up at her for a second before he went back to his calculations. "Tuesday, I think," he muttered, gesturing half-heartedly at the used coffee mugs and paper plates. Someone had been bringing him food, but he hadn't really been paying attention to who it was. He had a feeling, though, looking at Jan, that it had been her.

Which — would make sense, considering who she was married to.

"Are you going to shower, or should I just start filling buckets of water?" Jan asked pointedly. She leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, and Tony just shook his head at her for a moment before he turned back to his calculations.

"Is that your weird way of offering me a sponge bath?" Tony asked distractedly as he tried to focus back to his work. "Because I'm not totally against it."

"Yeah, no," Jan said with a frown, shaking her head at Tony as she looked over the used coffee cups and plates. "I'm just saying I _will_ douse you. I'm not gonna be as nice to you as I am to Hank when he gets this way."

"Shame," he said, still glaring at the computer readout.

"I'm serious, Tony, I'm going to call in some kind of biohazard team if you don't—"

"Jan, I really appreciate what you're trying to do here," he broke in, finally glancing up at her. "But I don't need a babysitter, and you don't _want_ to babysit me, so just do both of us a favor and you go your way, I'll stay here…"

"Just a fifteen-minute shower and enough time for me to spray something in here so it stops smelling like old coffee and chips and salsa," Jan insisted. "Or I _will_ go to Charles, and he'll cut off your computer access until you start to act human."

At that, Tony glanced up at Jan, startled into actually paying attention. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," she challenged him, her arms crossed and her chin jutted out.

"Jan…"

"Seriously, Tony, I do this for Hank all the time. You're small potatoes, because I don't actually _care_ if you hate me after I make you do human things for a while."

"I don't know," Tony shot back. "I can think of a few advantages you have with him…"

"Tony." She shook her head and shot him a warning glare. "Don't make me play the Charles card, because you'll hate it, I'll hate it, he'll hate it, and it will take a few hours out of your day instead of fifteen minutes."

"Jan, I'm really close—"

"Fifteen minutes, and fresh eyes," she insisted, though her expression softened the slightest bit. "That can't possibly hurt."

Tony frowned, thinking of all the names of the kids that they still hadn't brought back. Peter Parker, Bruce Banner…

 _Pepper_.

"I'm fine," he told Jan, though she gave him a look that read she clearly didn't believe him.

"Uh-huh." She gave him one more once-over before she simply grabbed the back of his swivel chair and pulled, and he was so shocked by the move that he was already halfway across the room before he realized what she was doing — and realized the fact that she was headed down the hall to where the bathrooms were.

"I take it you've reconsidered the sponge bath offer?"

"I'm going to dunk you unless you decide to use your own feet. Clothes and all."

Tony shook his head as he dragged his ankles along the ground to slow down their momentum, and he finally got to his feet. "Pushy," he shot her way.

"Damn right," she shot right back. "But effective." He shook his head at that and shuffled toward the showers, grumbling loudly about overbearing lab assistants.

* * *

 _September 1_

 _District Seven_

* * *

After a month's worth of watching what being a victor had done to Logan, Heather was done. Done trying to be polite about having him over, or even pretending to be polite. She was simply, entirely, completely, _done_.

 _She_ was going to _him_.

She packed up all the supplies that she would need to make her usual Sunday fare in a shoulder bag and stomped out into the early fall chill to barge right into Logan's house and set down her supplies in the kitchen. "Dinner is in thirty minutes," she told Logan as Mac trailed in behind her looking almost apologetic. Almost.

"What the hell are you doing now?" Logan asked with a frown from where he was getting to his feet in the living room, a book in hand. "Oh. Good. You brought Mac. Hey. I need to report a break in. Crazy red-headed broad just barging in uninvited."

Heather glared at him openly, but Mac just shrugged, his palms lifted defensively as he looked to Logan. "I'm off duty."

"Figures," Logan said in a grumble. "Why are you here? Get bored of just picking on him, an' figured I needed to be more miserable too?"

"Are you suggesting that _my_ Sunday dinners are miserable experiences?" Heather asked with one eyebrow raised. "Because I _know_ that's not what you're suggesting."

"It is."

She answered that by throwing one of the towels she had wrapped the food in at his face. "Well too bad."

"Assault," Logan called out to Mac a bit louder than was necessary considering where the Sentinel was standing at the time.

"Still off duty," Mac replied as he sat down in the seat opposite Logan. "Sorry."

"Why do I not believe that? The sorry part." Logan said as he stretched out a bit. "And really — what's the big deal?"

"I told you that you were coming over, and I told you I'd get mad if you ignored me, so this is your own fault," Heather informed him haughtily. Mac continued to look highly entertained by the whole thing.

"What happened to 'I earned my peace and quiet'?" Logan asked, arms crossed.

"I offered you six days out of the week, and you snubbed me for a solid month," she pointed out.

"Yeah, because you should spend it with your _family_ , not … strays," Logan argued, with a frown of distaste settled onto his features.

She gave him a _look_ at that, and Mac chuckled outright. "You _can't_ be arguing with her," he told Logan, still laughing as he examined the books on the table idly. "She's beyond being argued with. I can't stop her. I sure as hell don't think you can."

"You're a real credit to your post, you know that?" Logan said flatly. "I'm fine. Not really drinking much either, so you can just relax."

"Think I will," Mac agreed, just taking the opportunity to make himself that much more comfortable, putting his feet up on a nearby chair and clearly enjoying himself.

"Aren't you going to get in trouble for hangin' out with me or something?" Logan asked Mac with a bit of a frown — clearly a bit uncomfortable at the invading Hudsons. "You'll be demoted again for being friendly to riff raff."

"Yeah, you act like my boss knows how to argue with Heather either. I'll be _fine_ ," Mac pointed out, waving it off. "Just gotta say she wanted to _feed_ the riff raff."

"Plenty of other riff raff that can use the attention," Logan countered. "You know. Seein' as I'm _fine."_

"Sure you are," Heather called out. "And have you been bothered to talk to your grandfather yet?" Logan scowled deeper at that and pointedly decided to ignore her.

"I'll let you know if she ever decides she wants to bother someone else," Mac chuckled quietly. "For now, though, you're it."

"What gives, Heather?" Logan called out to her. "Didn't I prove I'm okay on my own?"

"No. No you did not," came the short response. "A few days sober does not mean you're 'okay.'"

"I didn't say I was _sober_. I said I wasn't drinking as much."

"Shut up and eat what I make you," she said, pulling a face at him.

"You don't need to do this," Logan insisted again. "Smitty's keeping an eye out, apparently." He gestured to the books on the table. "Not sure what he's getting at yet, outside of trying to get me back in the woods."

"On your feet was a good start," Mac said with a little smirk.

"Overrated," Logan replied. "I'm gonna go talk to him tomorrow, so you can both just … find a new hobby."

"Good," Mac said with a little nod. "'Bout time you got back up again."

"You're a pain," Logan told him. "And almost as much of a nag as your wife."

"Almost," Mac said with a grin.

"Alright, you two biddies. Stop gossiping about me and come and get it," Heather said, poking her head out again. "Soup's on."

"Not hungry," Logan said.

"Alright," she said, disappearing for only a second before she reemerged with her hands full of his plate and halfway shoved it into him. "If I have to spoonfeed you, I swear to God I'll tell every Sentinel in Mac's guard about the babysitting I have to do for you."

"Is this the attitude that won you that husband of yours?" Logan teased as he peeked up at her.

"Of course," she said without hesitating. "Like he could say no."

"You got weird tastes, Mac."

"Don't be jealous," Mac said with a smirk.

"No danger there," Logan said. "But … this .. isn't going to be a regular thing." It wasn't a question, and he looked monumentally serious. "I really don't need or want the babysitting."

"Not unless you force my hand," Heather said with a threatening glare his way.

"Who put you in charge again?" he asked. "Because I'm doing what they said I have to. I don't need you on my ass like I'm a racehorse."

She smiled at him with saccharine sweetness as she ducked back into the kitchen for the main course. "Shut up and eat your dinner."

"It's a lot easier to just do what she says," Mac suggested quietly. "It's always been a lot easier to _not_ rock the boat."

"Since when have I ever taken the easy route?" Logan replied as Heather returned to join the two of them for their impromptu Sunday dinner.

* * *

 _September 3_

 _Office of the Director of SHIELD_

* * *

Phil Coulson looked over the reports that Fury seemed to be so concerned about and couldn't help but frown. "This is rather routine," he observed. "Our surveillance in Four isn't even high priority. So why send in our covert team?"

"Nothing that happens right now is routine," Fury replied.

"Relatively speaking," Coulson corrected himself. "There are higher priority targets, if you don't mind my saying so."

"I do," Fury replied. "But I understand your concerns. For one thing, these kids need to do something that seems easy enough for their first time out. But as for high priority — it looks like we have a leak."

Coulson frowned at that and straightened up a bit. "How deep?" he asked, and it was clear from his tone he was trying to angle just how much damage control he needed to run.

"Deep enough that I'm bumping it to the top of the stack," Fury replied.

"And sending in our team to a broken surveillance station is going to uncover the leak?" Coulson couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that.

"You're not going to start questioning my methods, are you?" Fury asked with a frown.

"Just trying to understand them. It's their first mission; I want to make sure I'm briefing them as to what needs doing."

"What they need to do is look into the surveillance station. The rest is for you to know, and you only," Fury said pointedly.

"I think we've established that I can keep your secrets, sir," Coulson said with a little smirk. "I just do it better when I have the whole picture, or as much of it as possible."

"If this leak acts like we expect them to, they'll make a play for the kids, and we'll know exactly where the information is coming from when they do."

"Then I'll make sure Fitzsimmons equips them properly so they can fend off that kind of play," Coulson said with a nod. "Just in case you're right on this one," he added, keeping his smirk in check.

"'In case.' Right," Fury said, matching his expression. "If I'm wrong, I'll invite you to poker and handle your buy in."

* * *

 _September 4_

 _Briefing Room Under SHIELD_

* * *

"This is some kind of punishment, isn't it?" Kate muttered under her breath to Kurt when they entered the briefing room and saw that Steve was there as well as a man in a suit that Kate didn't recognize. He had to be the one in charge of missions — Agent Coulson, Cassie called him. She seemed to like Coulson alright, so Kate was reserving judgement on the guy, even if he looked like he'd just stepped out of an ad for boring.

"Glad you could make it. I know that you're still pretty fresh out of the program, so I'll try to make this easy," the middle aged, stoic man said in a form of greeting. "Please, take a seat."

He watched as the two teens headed over to sit — several seats away from Steve, who looked down at his hands as Coulson continued. "I trust we can skip over any further impromptu hand to hand sparring sessions until we're not in final prep for a mission?"

"I promise not to hit him. I can be professional," Kate said, though she looked a bit grumpy about it — though the subdued smirk Kurt was giving her had Coulson wondering if she was just doing it to mess with Steve … or to mess with him. From what he knew about Kate and what he had read, he wouldn't put it past her to try to find his limits that way.

"I'll try and restrain myself," Kurt added, his smirk growing a fraction.

"See that you do," Coulson said, his expression giving nothing away as he looked over the three of them. "I'm sure that Cassie's filled you in a bit on how we operate around here?"

"She said we'd be running missions," Steve said, looking up from his hands. "And the trainers have been getting us ready for covert ops. The suits are interesting — I mean, they cover our faces, but it's a little… theatrical. All black."

"All of our special ops teams operate like that in the facility. Part of it is for your own safety, part of it is to protect the secrecy of our program. It's a bit awkward, I know, but you'll probably get used to it before we can just ditch them."

"Well, I like the glasses Jan showed me," Kate said with a smile. "I didn't want to have to put up with cloth over my _eyes_."

"We do try to make you as comfortable as we can," Coulson said with a dry smile.

"So … what are we doing?" Steve asked, leaning forward a bit as he paused and added, "This is the whole team?"

"I already promised not to hit you," Kate said, though Coulson decided it was definitely just a matter of messing with him when he saw that Steve couldn't help smirking Kate's way at that.

"A little bit of espionage," Coulson said as he handed them their folders. "A little bit of scouting. And a lot of swimming. I hope you're all up to it."

The three kids looked over the information that Coulson had given them silently for a while, just reading through what would be expected of them.

"I know we've been working you on sniper training," Coulson said to Kate. "But it's important that you're well-rounded as an operative. I don't want you getting in a tight spot with nothing but range to rely on."

"I have been training with Bobbi," Kate defended.

"I know," Coulson said, nodding and looking as if he was trying to encourage her. "And she says you've been doing well. Which is why she gave you the green light for this mission. Yes," he said, looking at each of them in turn. "You need your trainers to okay you before you go out."

"Every time?" Steve asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

"That depends on how badly you're injured between missions, and in those cases, you'll need medical too," Coulson replied with a little nod as he looked to the other two. "Any questions?"

Kate and Kurt glanced at each other before they just shook their heads in unison, though Steve leaned over a bit. "It sounds like you're expecting injuries," he said with a frown.

"It's an inevitable fact of life in this business, but hopefully, it's not an issue every time you head out. I'd prefer if it was a rarity rather than the common practice," Coulson said. "But you should be prepared for the eventuality of it."

"Yeah, sounds about right," Kate muttered, but seeing as none of the three of them had any more questions, Coulson dismissed them to go get their gear and head to the hangar, which was filled with several different crafts of varying sizes, for different kinds of missions.

Carol was there chatting with her trainer, Rhodey, both of them leaned against the side of one of the jets and deep in conversation before the three of them arrived. But once the three Tahiti kids got to the hangar, Rhodey lightly squeezed Carol's shoulder and then wished them all luck. Carol, it seemed, would be their pilot for the mission.

"You ready to fly outside the simulator?" Kate asked Carol with a little teasing smile.

"Been that way since last month. Don't worry," Carol shot right back.

It was a long flight to District Four, and Steve still seemed to be a bit nervous around the other two members of his team. He might have started mending fences with Kate, but that didn't mean he was _comfortable_ yet... So for the most part, he stayed toward the front of the jet and chatted with Carol while she flew.

As for the other two — they weren't entirely sure what kind of monitoring systems the jet was outfitted with, so Kate and Kurt hadn't exactly fallen into _outright_ flirting, but they were seated next to each other, heads together and deep in speculation about their first mission.

"They've seriously got some awesome toys here," Kate told Kurt half under her breath as she showed him the crossbow that the researchers on the other side of SHIELD — the side where people didn't get locked in every night and could probably go see their friends, not that Kate was bitter — had put together for her. It was designed to shoot underwater, almost like a harpoon, really, but more elegant. After all, the surveillance station they were supposed to be investigating was hidden at the bottom of the ocean, so she couldn't exactly bring her usual bow. She was also the only one of the three to have trained on guns yet, so she had a small sidearm — which Bobbi told her to never ever _not_ wear — in a small-of-the-back holster, though for this mission, since they were in wetsuits, it was strapped at her ankle.

And while Kate got plenty of new toys to play with for this mission, Steve was theoretically heading things up — at least inasmuch as he had the scanners that would help them determine if the underwater outpost on the outskirts of Four had been compromised, if the data had been downloaded, that sort of thing.

Kurt had been doing plenty of training in hand to hand and was even working on fencing, but for this mission, he was putting the infiltration and sneaking training Matt had been working to use — he was in charge of finding their entrance as well as making sure to watch Steve and Kate's backs. And with a pair of blades for his own defense, he was ready to deal with anything unfriendly they might run into — he hoped.

The closer they got to District Four, the more silent it became in the little jet as the reality of what they were doing and the excitement of it began to sink in. They were only moments away from their first mission for the Tahiti program, and all three were anxious to get it right, just waiting for the signal to go.

"Alright," Carol called back to them as she pulled up to a stop. "This is as close as I can get before someone notices us." She hit a few buttons, and the bottom of the hovercraft opened up, revealing just how close they were to the waves below. A few flecks of foam even blew up into the jet from the updraft.

Kate felt someone brush her shoulder and looked up to see Kurt grinning at her. "Got your back!" he shouted over the roar of the wind in their ears, and she beamed at him for a second before she fixed the mask and breathing apparatus over her face for the dive.

Steve dove first, and Kate followed after him, and when she hit the water, her first reaction was to gasp — it was _cold_.

Once she had recovered from the initial shock of the cold water, she glanced over to see Steve flashing her a thumbs up to let her know that he was good — and she returned it, turning back to see Kurt doing the same. With that, Steve nodded and pointed down below them at an erratic blue light that _had_ to be the surveillance station, the occasional flashes glinting in the deep blue water.

Out of the corner of her eye, as she followed Steve, Kate saw Kurt disappear into a crevice to begin his search for anything unpleasant around them. She tried to ignore the nagging sensation that reminded her of the last time they'd been separated, outside of just the usual training stuff... But they weren't in the Games anymore, so she shook it off.

Steve pulled up short in front of her and held up a hand to signal Kate to wait, and she peered through the water for a moment, carefully swimming a little closer until she could see past the ridge of the mountain in front of her. She grimaced, glancing at Steve to see that he had a similar look of alarm behind his diving mask.

It had to be the tail end of a feeding frenzy. Kate couldn't see much of the body (or bodies?) because of the ocean scavengers, but she could see oxygen tanks and a few rubber flippers and decided that whoever that was, she really didn't want to get any closer.

She and Steve swam in a wide, careful arc away from the frenzy toward the station. Any other time, she would have been thrilled to get to swim through the gorgeous underwater landscape — the water was clear, and even with the off-putting feeding frenzy close by, the few fish she had seen so far were _gorgeous._

But... when they got to the station, Kate had to frown at the state of it.

It was definitely no accident that the surveillance station stopped transmitting. There were obvious signs of forced entry, serrated edges around the door made by cutting tools, and it swung in easily when Steve put his shoulder to it. The water had flooded the station once the door was opened by whoever had broken in before them, so Steve swam right in, pulling himself through the opening. For her part, Kate hung back, nervous, until she could spot Kurt again — and when she saw him emerge from a small opening in the rock, he had bits of rope in his hand.

Kate frowned — it looked like the remains of some kind of net, shreds of which were still wrapped around his air tank in a way that couldn't have been accidental.

But Kurt looked like he was okay — looking like he'd come out the other side of an attempted capture just fine — and she'd have to ask him about it later, since she was _supposed_ to be in the station backing Steve up. She swam in through the opened door and quickly caught up to Steve in the cramped space of the station. He was slowed by having to fit through the unmanned surveillance setup with his broader shoulders _and_ scuba gear. It was supposed to be a simple intel station, no crew, so this was more a maintenance hatch than anything else.

Suddenly, Kate spotted a glint of reflection further ahead in the water, and she grabbed Steve's ankle. He froze, and she pulled him slightly backward. Kate knew he'd seen the wire when he tensed and looked over to nod at her. He waited while she followed it back to its source and cut it before they moved forward again.

 _You know, if someone came here for sabotage, they didn't do a very good job,_ Kate thought as she looked over the undamaged walls and blinking lights of control panels around them until they finally reached another door — this one opened into the main controls.

Steve turned to look over his shoulder at her and then motioned for her to back up. She nodded and pushed herself back further away from the door in case it blew. She thought she could follow his line of thinking; after all, this definitely was starting to smell like a trap.

But when Steve pried the door open, there was nothing. No trap, no alarms. Kate and Steve both let their shoulders relax as they pulled themselves against the light current into the main control room.

They set to work, both of them frowning as they realized that the "sabotage" was really just a simple matter of someone flipping every single switch to the "off" position. It didn't exactly help their feeling that this was a trap, but if it _was_ a trap, they had yet to spring it. They searched every inch of the room, running their hands over the ceiling and floor, but still, there was nothing that seemed out of place.

Kate turned to Steve and shook her head to show that, no, she hadn't found anything, and Steve did the same, though he waved his hand at the controls with a theatrical wince that seemed to say he didn't trust them either before he motioned to his eyes and then the door. She nodded and moved to the exit, ready to spring at a moment's notice as Steve moved all the switches back to the "on" position.

Even though Kate was ready to bolt for help at the first sign of trouble, all the preparation in the world wouldn't have made her fast enough to get through the door when, as Steve flipped the last switch, the emergency sealing doors slammed down over portholes, doors, and walls, effectively trapping them inside.

In an instant, both of them sprang to work — Steve at the controls and Kate trying to find a weak spot or some kind of override on the doors and windows. For several long minutes, they kept up their desperate search, but they came up empty. It _had_ been a trap — not that either of them was surprised.

Kate felt a hand on her shoulder and spun to see Steve, his frown evident as he pointed to his air tank and then his watch and then flashed three and then four fingers. Thirty-four minutes. That was how much time they had before things got deadly.

But Kate tried to give him a reassuring look and put her fingers up at her ears, trying to mimic a pointy-eared Nightcrawler like Kurt had been in the parade and realizing after the fact that she was assuming he remembered Kurt's parade outfit. _But who wouldn't? It was awesome, wasn't it?_

Steve gave her a tired sort of smile and then reached for his watch again, this time turning the watch face — to send a signal to Kurt for their position to let him know they were in trouble. They knew they were transmitting the distress signal when the edge of the watch face began to glow redly.

A minute passed, then two, then three, then four. Kate tried to keep busy so they weren't thinking about their diminishing air supply, and with a whole lot of pointing, she managed to get Steve to help her set up the control panel so they could at _least_ get the surveillance monitors up — and they could see what was going on outside.

The screen flickered to life, and at first, they both nearly celebrated when they saw the diver just outside the station sliding into the entrance — until they saw the second one.

They weren't alone down there, it seemed.

At about the same time Kate and Steve glanced at each other, a bit wide-eyed and feeling like sitting ducks, a dull rumble shook the station, and they looked up to see cracks running along the sealed emergency door above their heads.

Steve glanced at Kate and then tilted his head in question before he mirrored her earlier pointy-eared miming. _Kurt_?

She shrugged but took out her crossbow all the same. Just in case.

A second rumbling explosion shook the station, and this time, bits of the ceiling came loose. It wasn't much, but Kate could see something moving… There. A black-gloved hand wriggling through the ceiling — and as soon as it broke through, it gave them a thumbs up.

Kate beamed and made the pointy-eared sign at Steve, who looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Both of them swam over to help Kurt widen the opening, pulling and prodding with the debris of the walls of the station swirling in the waters around them, trying to fight the urge to check their watches and see how much time they had before they ran out of air. By the time they'd made enough room that they could see Kurt — more than just his hand, anyway — their gloves were rubbed almost to threads at the fingers.

Finally, the opening was big enough for Kate to squeeze through, and Kurt pulled her through as Steve pushed. As soon as she was through, she turned to help Steve — but then there was a groan and hiss of machinery as the emergency doors snapped open.

Steve swam away from the hole in the ceiling, knife out, to attack the two divers as soon as they came through the doors, and Kate pulled her shoulders through the opening to fire her crossbow, twisting against the jagged edges of the ceiling to line up her shot — which went straight through the heart of the nearest diver.

The arrow was buried right down to the metallic feathers as the water in the sealed off area started to turn slightly pink, and Kate felt her breath in her throat as she realized she had _killed_ him… but she didn't have much time to process that. Beyond the steadily growing pink haze, Steve was grappling with the second diver, and as Kate watched, the guy crumpled.

Steve turned back, his fist still drawn back, knife apparently forgotten, and he nodded grimly her way as he pulled the now-unconscious diver by the shoulders. Apparently, Steve was taking prisoners — which, Kate realized now, was probably smart, since the Tahiti higher ups would probably want to know just who it was that was after them, and "black-clad ninja divers" probably wasn't going to cut it.

Kurt helped Steve pull the guy through their opening, and Kate swam out ahead to cover their escape as they pressed onward into water that was now a deep red. She couldn't help but get nervous when she saw the shadows of several, ah, _big_ things headed their way, and she checked behind her. At least neither of her partners were actively bleeding, but… this looked bad.

The three of them rushed for the surface, only minutes of oxygen left to them that felt too short as they had to pause to keep from getting the bends, and all three of them were frankly a bit jumpy at any sign of movement. Kate fired off bolts from her crossbow the moment anything too big got close — and by _close,_ she meant if she could see it, really.

And then, very suddenly, Kate felt a prickling sensation in her ankle, and when she looked down, she was surprised to see a tiny dart embedded in her suit... and she suddenly felt _very_ tired.

Her head started to droop, and Kurt rushed toward her when he saw that she was slowing down, an arm around her shoulders as he pulled the crossbow from her hands to try and take over covering their escape while still getting both of them up and out of the water. They were nearly to the surface when Kurt felt a similar prick — and then two more. One in the leg and two in the back.

After that, neither of them were quite aware enough to know what was going on, though Steve had seen both of them start to drift. It was a matter of luck that he was the one with their diver prisoner, and after seeing what had happened to the other two, he'd turned just in time to make sure the darts hit the black-clad diver instead of him. When he finally did spot the third diver who was shooting at them, he made a rush for the guy and hit him with a lucky right hook to the jaw that spun him out.

He seized his captive and just hauled with everything he had in him until he hit the surface, making sure to go to Kate and Kurt first — both surprised and relieved that they had managed to get themselves up to the surface on their own — to remove the breathing apparatus around their faces so they could breathe easy.

Both of them looked glassy-eyed and out of it, but Kate pointed lazily down and said something that sounded like "Bluwar."

"What?" Steve looked up at her.

But he quickly realized just what she'd been trying to say as the man, who was just starting to come out of unconsciousness, let out a cry. He'd been leaving a brownish trail, and with that cry, he was pulled under by something much stronger than Steve — plucked right out of his hands as, thankfully, he hadn't been holding onto him too strongly because he had been concerned with Kate and Kurt.

Now panicking as the water turned red, Steve just started to push Kate and Kurt as far away from the scene as possible, signalling Carol as he did so. "Come get us. _Now_ ," he managed to bite out, still pushing and pulling his partners to get _out_ of there.

He just kept trying to shepherd the two younger and very doped-up kids until, to his immense relief, the water churned not with some new creature, but to announce the arrival of the hovercraft, and Carol dropped the line to him to help him haul both of his teammates inside.

"What happened?" Carol asked when she saw the sleepy, drugged state of Kate and Kurt and the frankly exhausted and still slightly panicked Steve.

"Darts," Steve replied tersely, pulling the blue-winged darts out of Kurt's back, and two from Kate's ankle. "Get us back fast — I don't know what was in them," he added, and he was grateful when Carol didn't say anything but to floor it.

By the time they got back to the Tahiti base and Carol set them down in the hangar, Kate and Kurt had slipped in and out of consciousness enough times that Steve was getting tired just from trying to keep them both awake, totally unsure as to what the effects of whatever they'd been given were and whether or not it was _safe_ to let them sleep.

They were met by a few medics, who quickly checked all three of them over for any injury beyond the drugging even as the two younger operatives were half draped over the medical personnel, and Coulson came over with a deep frown settled over his features.

"What happened?" he asked Steve as they followed the medics taking the two of them to get the drugs analyzed.

Steve frowned hard as he turned toward Coulson. "It was a trap, sir. They waited until we were in the station and then sent divers after us." He showed Coulson the darts he'd pulled from Kate and Kurt, and Coulson immediately waved over Cecilia so she could see if they could glean any information from them.

Coulson just kept right on frowning all the way into the medical bay. The medical team was already in motion dealing with Kate and Kurt, and Claire looked up when he came in with a frown to match his. "It's some kind of sedation, but I haven't seen this mixture before," she admitted as her team looked over the doped-up kids. "We're analyzing it now."

"Can you give them anything for it?"

But Claire shook her head. "Not until we know for sure our countermeasures won't make it worse."

Coulson nodded but was wearing the same frown as he leaned against the wall and seemed to settle in to wait for the results, while Steve tried to give him a little better run-down of what all had happened, recalling the mission in as much detail as he was able.

Finally, it was Simmons who came back with the preliminary results. "It's not just sedation," she said. "This stuff is meant to stay in your bloodstream long after you're awake, keep you docile."

Coulson frowned at that. "Look into it. I want to know exactly what it does and where it came from," he said before he settled into a seat across from Kate and Kurt.

Kurt seemed to be a little more together than Kate was — Steve had found three darts on him, but it looked like only one had broken skin. Kate, on the other hand, was staring contentedly at absolutely nothing, while Kurt seemed to be actively trying to figure something out as he stared around the room and then at Kate.

"She's an angel," Kurt announced, very suddenly and loudly.

It was to the credit of their profession that the medical team just carried on with what they were doing, but Steve was already trying to stifle his laughter as Coulson started to smirk when they realized Kurt was openly staring at his teammate.

And, when no one seemed to come forward with any refutation of his pronouncement, Kurt just nodded to himself as if he'd known it all along. "Thought so." He looked around the hospital with a bit of a dopey grin before he asked no one in particular, "Did I die again? This looks like where I was when I died."

"You didn't die," Claire assured him, though she couldn't quite hide her smile. "You're just not fully conscious."

"Oh." Kurt looked a bit confused before he looked toward Kate. "Then how come she's here?"

Claire just looked highly entertained. "She's not dead either."

"They fixed that?" Kurt looked wide-eyed.

"Yeah, we did."

"Good. I like her." He gave Claire a sloppy, lopsided grin that made him look even younger than fifteen. "A lot."

Coulson was valiantly trying not to chuckle, though Steve had long since abandoned that, opting just for not laughing too loud.

"Basic analysis results," Simmons called out, and Coulson tuned out Kurt's slightly hiccoughed pronouncements about how he and Kate weren't _allowed_ to fraternize, which Kurt looked increasingly annoyed about.

"What have you got?" Coulson asked as he slipped over to where Simmons was frowning at a printout.

"It looks like it should be safe to use basic stimulants to bring them out of it. They'd come to their senses on their own eventually, but this stuff doesn't break down for _days_. It's designed for long-term docility."

Coulson frowned. "I want you to run tests and have the samples further analyzed. I want to know how best to counteract it." He glanced over at the two dopey operatives. "And I want to know where it came from."

"Yes, sir," Simmons said, nodding quickly, as Claire started to set Kurt up for some stimulants so they could bring him around.

Kate, meanwhile, seemed to have finally noticed something other than the spot of wall she had been staring at when Kurt, leaning so far out of his hospital bed that the nearest medic had to grab him before he fell, waved to her and announced, "She kissed me, you know."

"So much for non-fraternization," Steve said, still chuckling under his breath as Coulson just… had to shake his head. There was nothing he could do for the two of them while they were like this; it was just a good thing Essex or Hill wasn't there at the moment.

Kate looked around her side of the bed and blinked several times as she seemed to be struggling to focus. "Who's _that_?" she asked, wide-eyed. "He's really cute."

"You two are just digging holes for yourselves, aren't you?" Claire asked, shaking her head as she rolled up Kurt's sleeve.

Kate frowned. "What are they doing?" she asked as she started to try and stand up.

"He's fine," Coulson tried to assure her.

"I can fight 'em," she said unsteadily. "All of 'em."

"I'm sure you can."

"Are they hurting him?"

"No." Coulson couldn't help but smile to himself at the situation, though the smile faded when Kurt gave a small yelp as Claire put the needle in his arm, and Kate did, in fact, try to stand. A couple medics rushed to keep her from doing just that as she declared, "Take you all on."

Though — at the sight of people holding Kate down, Kurt also got agitated. "Leave her alone!"

"She's fine," Steve said, trying to help Kurt calm down. "Kurt, she's okay—"

 _Crash._ Kurt had tried to stand, faster than Claire anticipated, and knocked over a tray of medical tools.

Coulson frowned and let out a sigh. He had been hoping to avoid restraining either of them, since none of these kids seemed to react well to that, but within minutes, both of them were muttering eager threats from flat on their backs, tied down firmly, though Claire did make sure they had a line of sight on each other so they wouldn't get even more agitated.

"I thought you said this was supposed to keep them docile," Coulson said as Kate and Kurt kept shooting each other phrases like "got your back" and "got yours first."

Simmons just looked a bit flustered as she ran a hand through her hair. "Well, yes, it is. But the stimulants and the reaction to each other must have, well, spooked them, I suppose."

"Are they going to be okay?" Steve asked. "I mean … does everyone have this kind of reaction?"

"I have no way of knowing that yet. It seems like their reaction is more that they're upset for each other than anything else," Claire pointed out. "I doubt it's medical. They were docile enough when you brought them in."

"So…. Should we put them a little closer together?" Steve asked. "Maybe it will help settle them down."

"Shhh, Steve," Kate said insistently. " _Shhhhhhh_! Don't blow our sneak."

"Oh, never," Steve said, trying to reassure her and keep from laughing at the same time. "It's for Kurt's health. So he can calm down. He's worried about you."

She scrunched her nose up. " _I_ am not the one who got stuck with a needle," she said, despite the IV in her arm, which had Claire smirking a bit at her own sneaky skills.

"No, but he did. And he's worried," Steve said. He paused and glanced at Coulson, who hadn't tried to stop him yet, so he just sighed and pressed on ahead. "Kate — if I draw the curtains, will you get mad if I pull your bed closer to his? I think it would help him a lot to see you."

"Only if you're sneaky," she insisted, as Kurt nodded his agreement with a loud "shhhhh."

"I'll be sneaky, and I'll keep watch," Steve promised. "I'll make a hawk call if anyone comes your way."

"That's not quiet or sneaky," she insisted.

"Well, I'm up for suggestions," Steve said as he started to move the bed she was on.

"Just make sure nobody _in charge_ notices," Kurt said.

"Shhhhhhh," Steve said before continuing in a hushed tone. "You're going to blow her cover."

"Shhh," Kurt agreed with a giggle as Steve finally got them close enough that they could reach each other to hold hands.

"We're going to need to make sure Morse puts them both through better training on covert ops. And counter interrogation," Coulson said, shaking his head as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I tell you what, Agent Coulson," Steve said, smirking. "If it comes down to it and I ever get that doped up, I'll try to act lovesick over every nurse that walks in the room so we can say it's just part of the reaction to the drugs."

"I don't think that's going to help," Coulson said, though a smile was tugging at the edge of his expression all the same. He let out a small sigh before he stood. "Claire, you'll let me know if there's any change?"

"Of course," she said with an understanding look. "If you're worried, I can up their sedation and let them sleep some of it off before we try to rouse them again."

"That might be best," Coulson said with a little smirk. "Before they incriminate themselves even further."

When she made her way around the curtain, the two of them were on their sides just smiling dopily at each other. "Okay kids, medicine time," she said as she measured out the first dose.

"What for?" Kurt asked with a small frown.

"To make sure you don't get in trouble, mostly," she said. "And you'll heal faster this way."

"Well, that's important." Kate nodded thoughtfully.

"It is," Claire agreed as she dosed up Kate first. "Now you two rest up. You'll have to debrief when you wake up."

The two of them just giggled a little bit at some joke only they seemed to understand before Claire's sedation took effect.

* * *

 _September 5_

 _Raina's Apartment Building_

* * *

When the kids that Coulson had sent out came back drugged up to their ears, that was bad enough. But the fact that, according to Steve's report, whoever it was that had gone after the kids had clearly been going for a grab, had wanted to keep them sedated long-term… Well, Coulson was honestly feeling a little mean about it.

Add to that the fact that it had been the first mission all three of those kids had been on for SHIELD... it hadn't taken much for Fury to okay Coulson's request to _personally_ go after the leak. Fury wanted her taken down hard, and there was no better person to do that than a pissed-off Phil Coulson.

The whole thing had taken only a matter of about half an hour to authorize, since Fury already had his suspicions about this particular woman, and the whole mission had only confirmed them. Raina had played right into Fury's trap, and Coulson found himself with his team outside of her apartment in the wee hours of the morning, ready to get some _answers_.

Raina hadn't been in SHIELD long; she'd been brought in recently because of her ability to get along with Capitol contacts as well as her frankly unsettling way of getting to the root of plans and transmissions that SHIELD intercepted. She was in exactly the kind of position that would have put her on the trail to find out about Tahiti, but the question was — just _how much_ did she know?

May and Ward went around back, but Coulson preferred the front door approach himself, and he readjusted his sleeves once before he rang the doorbell and waited.

After a few long moments, Raina got to the door, still half-asleep but wearing, as usual, a flowered nightdress. Even the robe she had wrapped around herself had flowers on it. When she saw Coulson at her door, she smiled sweetly up at him, apparently not quite realizing just how much trouble she was in.

"And what can I do for you today, Agent Coulson?" she asked.

"You can tell me who you've been leaking information to — and just what all they know," he told her sharply, none of his usual politeness in his tone.

For a moment, her eyes widened in understanding of what Coulson was doing there, and she backed quickly away from the door, slamming it shut in his face.

But Coulson wasn't too concerned when he had the backup he did, and he heard the muffled sounds of a short and probably very one-sided fight on the other side of the door before, a few moments later, Ward opened the door for Coulson.

"What, were you just going to wait out there until it was time to make a dramatic entrance?" Ward asked on seeing that Coulson hadn't moved since Raina slammed the door in his face.

"I just didn't want to get in the way of your work," Coulson said simply as he stepped through the doorway and turned his attention to the woman twisting in May's grasp.

"Just who are you working for?" Coulson asked the girl in the flowered dress. "Because I'd really like to know who it is that's asking about Tahiti."

Raina broke into a soft sort of smile. "Can't a girl be curious?"

"Not about this." Coulson frowned. "What do you know?"

"Not nearly as much as I want to," Raina said, and when she looked just a little too smug about it, May took her arms in a tighter hold, and Raina cried out for just a moment — though she quieted down at the glare May gave her.

"Let's get moving," Coulson said as he directed May to take their prisoner out. "Don't want to wake the neighbors."

As May half dragged Raina out, thankfully, she wasn't too much trouble — though the moment she was secured in the transport, she seemed to be under the delusion that she was the one asking the questions.

"It must be something really good to have you stop by personally," Raina told Coulson.

"I'm not going to play games with you, Raina," Coulson said with a deeply settled frown, and she laughed as if that was the best joke she'd hear in some time.

"Of course you are," she said, waving him off. "Because you want to protect your precious secrets."

"And you still don't know anything about those secrets," Coulson replied, one eyebrow raised and a look of only mild interest on his face, despite the fact that he was an inch away from losing his well-hidden temper and simply blowing up at the woman held prisoner in front of him. "You got your hands on something that piqued your curiosity, but I think you don't know what it _is_ that you've found."

"Oh, very clever," she said, glancing up to meet his gaze with something like a sneer.

"My only question is who you reported to. I wouldn't be surprised if whoever it is knows more than you do," Coulson pressed on, sensing her prideful weakness as her eyes flashed at the insinuation.

She quickly schooled her expression before she smiled sweetly at him once more. "I'm afraid, Agent Coulson, that you're going to have to trade information for information." She leaned forward. "You could start by telling me just who you've recruited for that Tahiti project of yours. They _must_ be something special for how closely you're guarding them."

But Coulson wasn't going to bite. He shook his head at her and leaned back in his seat. "You know, I'm not technically head of the project. For that, you'd have to go to Maria Hill. And I'm sure she'd _love_ to listen to your questions."

"If you're trying to intimidate me—"

"Me? No, not at all," Coulson said in a dismissive tone that didn't match his expression at _all._ "I know I'm not nearly as scary as my colleagues. And even if I could be, that's just not my style. That's why I leave the interrogations to them. Unless you want to just make your life easier and _tell me_ who you're working for?"

"Only if you tell me what the Tahiti program is."

Coulson let out a sigh and shook his head, leaning back in his seat. "On your own head," he muttered, almost to himself, as May drove them back to the Triskelion, where they were sure to get answers — and not likely in such a polite conversation, either.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd actually let Hill ask some questions. But he was feeling particularly mean that morning.

* * *

 _September 5_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

The only experience that Kate had with sedation was when she had first woken up out of the Tahiti process, so when she recognized that strange, floaty feeling, she couldn't help but panic at the sensation. After all, the last time she'd felt this way, she had been _dead_.

"Hey, Kate, good to see you up and awake," said a familiar voice, and it took her a little longer than it would have taken her under normal circumstances to realize that it was Steve's. It was enough of a surprise that it was Steve — he wasn't exactly at the top of the list of people she would want to see when she came back from the dead — that she felt the panic evaporate, at least for now.

She blinked several times over until her vision started to come back to her, and she saw him sitting in a chair close by her bed in medical with a slight grin on his face. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Ungh," Kate said in response instead of the "fine" she'd meant to say, but Steve smiled at her anyway, and then looked concerned when he saw that she looked like she was going to try and get up out of her bed.

"Where are you going?"

"Kurt."

Steve shook his head at her, putting a hand on her shoulder to keep her where she was. "He's fine. He got up about half an hour ago." He gestured at the empty bed that Kurt had been occupying earlier that morning. "He wanted to wait for you, but Claire wanted to run some tests to make sure all the drugs are out of your systems."

Kate nodded slowly, starting to remember now what had happened: the darts, the mission… "How long... have I been out?" she asked, speaking slowly to make her mouth form the words.

"Since just after we got back," Steve told her. He smirked the slightest bit as he added, "You and Kurt are hilarious under the influence, by the way."

"Oh, no." She grimaced and shook her head. "What did we _do_?"

"It wasn't so much what you did but what you were saying," he admitted.

"Steve."

He let out a breath and a small sort of smile. "If it makes you feel any better, it looks like Cassie was right about Agent Coulson being a good guy. He was pretty good at feigning deafness when you two were proclaiming your feelings for each other all over the place."

"Oh, no." Kate repeated, raising both hands to cover her face which, evidently, was not lacking for blood flow.

"He didn't say a word, Kate. I think you're fine."

"That is _so_ not the root of the problem here, Steve," Kate pointed out, her hands still covering her face.

"You were pretty insistent on the fact that no one could know about the two of you. You know — sneaking around and all that," Steve told her, and Kate just looked that much more miserable for a moment.

"That is just… so embarrassing," she whispered out.

"Claire's a professional. She's not going to let anyone know—"

"Seriously, Steve? How many witnesses were there?"

Steve tried hard not to laugh as he just shook his head at her. "Why — are you planning to kill off all the witnesses?" he teased.

She dropped her hands dramatically. "I may _have_ to!" she said, though for the first time since she woke up, Steve could see that she was grinning the slightest bit.

"Just try not to get so high next time we go out on in the field. I haven't been trained in babysitting," he teased her lightly, and Kate rolled her eyes and sat up to hit him in the shoulder.

"You're no help," she accused him.

"I was _very_ helpful," he corrected her. "I'm the one who got you and Kurt close enough together that you could hold hands." He grinned when he saw Kate's open-mouthed expression and added, "It was very sweet."

Kate looked like she was ready to throw something at him, but luckily for Steve, Kurt returned at just that moment, having been pronounced clean enough to get his ticket out of medical. When Kurt saw that Kate was awake, he broke into a grin and quickly grabbed a chair so he could sit on her other side. "How are you feeling?" he asked her gently, although now that they were both in their right minds again, he didn't grab her hand or anything.

Kate let out a long and dramatic sigh. "A little upset, honestly," she told him. "Our first mission out and both of us go down hard — that's not exactly the triumphant debut I was hoping for."

"I'm sure we'll get better with practice," Kurt said, shaking his head with an encouraging smile as Kate let out another long sigh.

"I _guess_. But I really wanted to wow everyone."

Steve watched the two younger Tahiti kids for a moment before he bit his lip. "I don't think it was ever a possibility to wow them, Kate," he said quietly, and with both of his teammates turned to face him with eyebrows high, he let out all the breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. "I think they were expecting it to be a trap."

"You mean they sent us out there with the evil divers on purpose?" Kate sounded incredulous. "I thought you said Coulson was a good guy."

"He is," Steve defended quickly. When Kate just gave him another look that clearly read she didn't believe him, he opened both hands, palms up to show he wasn't lying with his body language.

"Then why send us in if he _knew_ it was a trap?" Kate asked.

"I don't know, and I'm only speculating," Steve pointed out. "I just know that he was _very_ upset when both of you came back with darts in you. He was in here a few times while you guys were out."

"Checking on his bait," Kate grumbled, but Steve shook his head.

"I don't think so. He was genuine," Steve insisted.

"Maybe he expected us to be able to handle it," Kurt suggested quietly, though that just got Kate to frown even harder.

"Well, we epically failed at _that_ ," she muttered.

"Even though I don't think that's the point here, I have to admit. Kurt's right," Steve pointed out. "We'll get better at this. I'm sure everyone has a hard time with their first mission."

"Of course I'm right," Kurt said, sounding as if the very idea of anything else was ridiculous.

That had Kate smiling softly his way before she shook her head. "Alright, boys, looks like we're just going to have to work harder next time to reclaim our glory."

"You two, maybe. I didn't get stuck with any darts," Steve couldn't help but tease her with a little smirk as his eyes twinkled playfully.

"And if you tell _anyone_ what happened while we were high, I swear, Steve, I will find a way to make you suffer for it," Kate said, leveled her finger at him and looking almost entirely serious. It was sometimes hard to tell with Kate whether she meant her threats, and Steve was still trying to navigate being on her good side, so he just raised both hands in a gesture of peace.

"I swear, I won't tell a soul," he said as earnestly as he could, and she studied him for a long moment, eyes narrowed, before she seemed to decide that was good enough and gave a single sharp nod, which got a broad smile from Steve for just an instant before Kate turned her head back his way.

"Alright," she said. "I'm going to go talk to Claire and get my pass out of jail." She gave Kurt a significant glance as she added, "I may need a little help getting there."

Steve didn't even try to stop the smirk as he watched Kurt take Kate by the hand to "help" her out of her hospital bed. "I'm sure there's something else I could be doing somewhere," he said as he stood to leave. "Good luck with your recovery, Kate."

"See ya later, Steve," she called out to him cheerfully, and he just had to shake his head as he left. Those two really had to work on their subtlety.


	11. Hawkeye v Deadpool

**Notes: Here we are back again with what promises to be a chapter of… ridiculousness. Just … building an army. Pay no attention. But you know, Tahiti is a magical place.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: "Hawkeye v. Deadpool"**

* * *

 _September 10_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Cassie was the default go-to whenever someone waking up in the Tahiti program didn't have family, so of _course_ when Charles asked her if she would welcome Wade Wilson into the world, she had agreed. He'd assured her that even though the boy had seemed totally insane during the Games, the hope was that the Tahiti process had been able to reverse much of the damage that had made him that way.

Cassie wasn't supposed to know that it was half the reason they'd brought Wade back - to see if they could reverse the damage done so that they could bring back others who had 'severe head injuries'. A phrase which was the Cassie kept hearing bandied about, as if it were as easy to repair as a sprained ankle.

There were some serious upsides to studying in the room by Hank Pym's lab.

But the Tahiti docs weren't going to take any chances, either, so Wade was tied down and heavily sedated when they moved him. Actually, he was taking a while to wake up, and Cassie had ducked out of the room for just a few minutes — to stretch her legs and use the bathroom — when _of course_ Wade woke up.

Alone. In a white room.

"Am I alone? Really? Hellooooooooo," Wade sang out, straining against the restraints that held him down. " _Ollie ollie oxen free!_ Where is everybody!" The more Wade shouted, the more harsh his cries became as clearly he was working up to a panic — or something like it.

Cassie's eyes widened when she returned, seeing the struggling young man on the other side of the room. She hurriedly slipped inside, trying her best to give him a calming and reassuring smile. "Um, please don't shout. I step out for like five seconds…"

"Is that you, Margaret?" Wade asked, sounding almost childlike.

"Cassie Lang," she corrected him, waving with the tips of her fingers. She wasn't entirely sure who Margaret was, and she wasn't exactly equipped to deal with insanity if he was seeing people who weren't there. She _hoped_ he wasn't seeing things.

He looked her way for a second before he lifted one hand up as far as he could, half in greeting and half to show the restraints that were in place. "Cassie Lang, can you maybe, I dunno… just … just loosen up these restraints? I kinda have a thing about being immobilized."

"I'm not supposed to until we're sure you're okay," she admitted. "But don't panic — I know it's really weird waking up, but you'll be totally fine if you relax and focus on flexing your muscles."

"Well that's all fine and good, Cassie Lang, when you're not the one _strapped to the bed._ "

"Sorry," she said with a sheepish little smile. "But you're also the first Career we've brought back, and you kinda… well." She paused, unsure if she should tell him they weren't sure how sane he was. How was she even supposed to approach a conversation like that, exactly? "We want to make sure you don't kill anybody."

"Oh. Well. I didn't kill anyone before …" He made some noises as if he was considering things. "But I did _try_ to. So. Alright... maybe I see your point." Wade paused for a moment, staring at the ceiling.

She waited patiently. So far, he hadn't done anything more insane than call her Margaret, and since she didn't know who his family and friends were, that actually wasn't the strangest thing she'd been called.

"Cassie Lang?" he said at last. "Can I call you just Cassie or Miss Lang or Cas or Cas-a-rama or …"

"Cassie is fine," she said with a little grin.

"Cassie. Great. Um…" He let out a long breath and seemed to be painstakingly picking his words. "If it's not too much trouble, can I have my mask please? I… I kinda need it."

"Why?" she asked, with true sincerity. She knew that he'd worn a mask during the Games, but looking at him now, she assumed it must have been a gimmick to get attention. Either that or he had the worst self-esteem she'd ever seen. He wasn't the _least_ bit ugly.

"To keep from scaring what I am assuming are pretty girls like you," he replied, his tone quiet and entirely serious. "Among other things."

She wrinkled her nose a bit at him. "You're strapped down and not yelling anymore. You're not that scary."

"Either you're an adorable liar or you have a very strong stomach."

She stared at him for a second until she just had to shake her head. "I don't know what you're talking about. And I don't know why you kept all covered up the whole Games. You're like… a younger version of my dad, only with lighter hair."

"You … are unique in your horrible life experiences then," he said, regarding her carefully, as if he wasn't sure what to do with _her,_ either. "And that's just not nice to say."

"Look, I don't know who in your life gave you your horrible self-esteem—"

"It was a gas line," he said. "Burned almost 80% of my body. It's not a self-esteem thing."

"Oh!" Cassie put a hand to her mouth as she finally understood. "Oh, well — you can't tell anymore," she assured him quickly. "They probably fixed that when they brought you back from the dead."

Any trace of a smile disappeared from his face, and Cassie took a step back as she saw, for just a moment, why he had been chosen by the Academy in One to represent them in the Games. "What? Is that … is that some kind of _joke_?" he asked harshly. "Because I promise you that's it's _not funny_."

"No, really," she insisted. "I even like the freckles."

The silence that passed between them was long and sharp, and he seemed to be working to control his breathing before, finally, he said, "Mirror. Please, Cassie Lang."

She hesitated, still further back from him than she had been before. She wanted to help him; he seemed so upset. But she wanted sure how much she could trust him…. But there was a panic button by the door that she could use, so she took in a breath. Tahiti was about taking risks — wasn't that what Coulson was always saying? "Okay, I'm gonna let you sit up," she told him, gingerly stepping forward and, when he didn't seem about to take off her head, stepping even closer. "Just don't — don't do anything to make me regret that, okay?"

"As long as you're not lying to me, we'll be just fine," he said without the slightest trace of humor in his voice.

She tipped her head at him and nodded as she moved to undo the restraints around his wrists. "There's a mirror over on this wall," she said, backing away toward the door just in case she needed to use the panic button once she had his hands free.

He quickly removed the ones that held him down at the ankles and gave her a look of unease before he stood up and made his way over to take a look in the mirror … and just … stared. "What the hell happened to me?" he asked at nearly a whisper, wide-eyed.

"Well, you died," she explained as gently as she could, one hand on the door handle just in case. "And then SHIELD brought you back." She smiled kindly at him. "Welcome back!"

He turned her way slowly with that same wide-eyed expression before he broke into a grin and took a quick couple of steps her way. She almost winced away, but he was _beaming_ , and the next thing she knew, he'd scooped her up in a hug and spun her around in a circle. "I don't know what they did, but I love it," he said before he theatrically gave her a big, smoochy, wet kiss on the cheek and finally set her down.

Cassie couldn't help but giggle; his smile was infectious, and she was relieved to see that he wasn't angry or upset or anything else that he could have decided to be. "Well, give me another couple years of studying, and I'll see if I can explain it to you," she offered.

"I don't even care," he said with a winning grin. "As long as it stays this way, I'm happy."

"Just don't run into any fires, and yeah, it's pretty darn permanent," she assured him. "I mean, I've been up and around for two years, and so far nothing has changed except, you know. Getting older. So you're not immortal or anything." When he just kept grinning wider and wider, she decided it was probably safe… "Do you want to see the rest of the place?" she offered.

* * *

In the next room over, Clint Barton was tied down the same way Wade had been, though he wasn't panicking loudly and shouting like his neighbor was. The rooms were well-insulated enough that he had no idea what Wade was up to just a few feet away. Clint was just… quiet. Unmoving. Watching.

Charles knew that the young man had been awake for some time, and he had been observing Clint's reactions as he came back to consciousness. "Are you feeling alright, Mr. Barton?" he asked gently.

"Alive," he said quietly, turning his gaze Charles' way at last as he gave the victor a very clear once-over, trying to determine what his angle was, why this guy was there. Why _he_ was there.

"I'm supposed to assess you," Charles admitted. He didn't see any sense in lying to Clint, and with the young man as quiet as he was, he probably needed the push. "Weigh out how at risk you are. So, perhaps you could elaborate for me."

"That's about all I got for you, though," Clint said with a small frown. "Alive and confused, since last I saw, me and Katie…. Wait. Oh man — is Katie okay?" he asked abruptly, straining for the first time against the restraints as he tried to see beyond the bed and Charles.

"Kate is here too," Charles replied in a careful, calm, reassuring tone. "She's whole and healthy, and I'm sure she'd be very excited to see you, too."

Clint turned to watch Charles, searching for any sign of deceit, but when he saw none, he just tipped his head back with a sigh. "So she got invited to the afterlife party."

"She did," Charles said with a ghost of a smile. "And in the Games, she made it to the top three."

He smiled a bit at that. "Atta girl," he said, though he fell silent for a long time after that. Charles thought he might need to prompt the young man again before he finally spoke up, this time to ask, "Just me and her, or….?"

"No, there are several," Charles replied. It was clear to see that the young man in front of him cared deeply about others but not quite himself, though it was at least an encouraging sign that he still _did_ care. He took a deep breath and watched Clint's reactions, meeting his steady gaze. "The boy from Nine, the girl from Six. The boys from Three and Five, the Five girl, the Eleven girl … and your district partner — so far."

"Natasha's here?" Clint picked his head up.

"She's here," Charles said. He wasn't surprised to see that _hers_ was the name that had him most interested, but he was surprised by how instantly he seemed to perk up out of his silent sullenness. But he didn't want to give the boy false hope, either, so he quickly added, "But we have a lot of work to do to free her mind from the Red Room."

"She's..." Clint's eyes were wide, and he seemed to be searching for what to say. "She's a good kid. Deep down. Don't…." It was the most open Charles had seen him, his lips slightly parted, his whole expression one of almost desperation as he tried to explain just what he was afraid of. Charles was sure he didn't even know himself.

"I'm trying to talk her through it. No force involved," Charles assured him. "On my word."

Clint looked relieved to hear it, leaning back into the hospital bed as he let out all his breath. "She's alive," he said, mostly to himself.

"And fighting me every step of the way," Charles said with a little smile. "You should have seen the look on her face when I told her she wasn't that great of an actress."

"You didn't." Clint picked his head up and grinned. "And you're still breathing?"

"I'm still breathing," Charles replied, smiling wider.

"That's amazing." Clint chuckled a little to himself. "When can I see her? And Katie - and the others?"

"Honestly, if I can clear you quickly, we can get you to Kate at least today, and with a bit of luck and some cooperation on her part — Natasha will follow quickly."

"Let me help," Clint offered almost immediately. "I _know_ her."

"I appreciate that," Charles said. "I'm afraid she refuses to trust anyone right now — though I'm not surprised."

"I can get through to her," Clint said, his tone half-pleading. "She trusts me, I'm pretty sure."

"Then let's get you up and about and on a tour. Then, when she returns, you can go to see your fellow Hawk, and I'll bring you in next session," Charles said as he rolled forward to undo the restraints on Clint's wrists. "Of course, everyone does weekly sessions with me at the minimum."

"And you're, what, the camp counselor?" Clint asked with a little smirk.

"Something like that," Charles replied.

"I'm warning you now that I don't know how to braid hair or make bracelets."

"That's fine; I've never had much need for those skills," Charles countered with a smirk and a quick gesture toward his bald head.

Clint grinned even more widely at that, and nodded as he sat up and stretched out his arms before freeing up his legs. "So," he said, his tone totally conversational but his gaze never leaving Charles' face. "I'm assuming this isn't Camp Feelgood if you're bringing people back from the dead."

"No," he said. "It's more like Camp Revolution."

Clint looked shocked and peered closer at Charles for a moment, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly. He reached up to his ear, and Charles saw the moment realization passed over his expression when there was no aid there.

"I… I must have heard you wrong," Clint said, suddenly looking self-conscious.

Charles watched the young man with a small smile. "No," he said gently. "There is nothing wrong with your hearing, Mr. Barton."

At that, Clint absently traced the outline of his ear, as if he was still expecting to find something there. "That's not…"

Charles nodded, waiting for Clint to process it properly. When Clint finally looked up at him, eyes wide and searching for answers, Charles leaned forward with an understanding smile. "The same medical technology that was used to bring you back — we were also able to use to restore your ear, and reverse the damage that was done when you were a child."

Clint held his hand up to his right ear, a frown settled over his features. He didn't quite like the idea of someone fixing him up without him knowing about it, or giving his okay. Not that he wasn't grateful, he just… he'd been living with it for so long, since before his parents died. The old man was the one who deafened him in the first place.

"I know it's a lot to process," Charles said kindly, watching the stunned young man closely.

"Yeah…" Clint finally lowered his hand and swallowed hard. He closed his eyes, and Charles leaned forward, worried, until Clint glanced his way again with an attempt at a casual grin. "Alright, tell me again what this camp is for. Just to be sure I heard you right."

Charles couldn't help but smile as he nodded. "Mr. Barton," he said clearly, "we're preparing for a revolution."

Clint looked delighted, both at the news and the fact that he realized he had, in fact, heard correctly — though he almost couldn't help a whispered-out, "Really?"

"It's long overdue."

"Yeah, no kidding," Clint said as if this was obvious. He grinned to himself the more he thought about it before he asked, "When do we start tearing a path through the Capitol?"

"There's training to be done first, and once the path looks clear, Director Fury will hand everyone their assignments."

But at the mention of 'assignments', Clint's enthusiasm seemed to evaporate. "That's one, ah, organized revolution you're running," he said with a frown. "Sounds more like a coup from the inside for another Capitolite to win power."

"That's a fair way to put it," Charles admitted, "although the preliminary plans I saw spoke more to handing the power to the people of the districts and removing the system in place entirely."

"And who better to do that than the guy who runs the system?" Clint said, clearly not convinced in the least.

"He is uniquely qualified," Charles replied. "There's a reason all the previous Gamemakers were executed. They know too much of the systems that keep Thanos in power.."

"That's real comforting, you know that?" Clint said, frowning at Charles. "You gonna do that too once you're done with us — execute us for knowing too much?" He didn't even sound accusatory; it sounded like a rhetorical question.

Charles frowned at him and shook his head, his body language as open as honest as he could make it so that Clint was sure he wasn't lying. "No, the plan is to free you as much as we free the rest of the citizens," he said before he paused and added, "Using the Games themselves as cover for our enterprise."

Clint just gestured at himself and the little white room. "Little late for that, camp counselor man."

"This year, yes," Charles agreed. "But in a few months, the victory tour will start, drawing their attention away again."

"At which point you'll pull your little undead weapons out of the toolbox," Clint finished for him.

Charles raised an eyebrow at him for that one. "I assure you, you are more than—"

But Clint waved his hand easily to cut him off. "It's okay, doc. Being a weapon's pretty much my whole life story. I'm used to it."

"You aren't required to do anything you don't choose to do," Charles told him honestly.

"Don't worry about it," Clint said with a shrug. "There's no way I don't want to be part of taking down the Capitol anyway. Just… give me a heads up if I 'know too much,' huh?" he said, this time with a joking grin that Charles could tell he didn't quite mean.

"I won't ask you to put yourself in any more danger than you're comfortable with," Charles said. "If you can just help me to get Natasha out of the Red Room, I'll consider it a win."

Clint just nodded at that. "Yeah, I guess baby steps. Nat first, then we'll overthrow Thanos. Then, if we have time, pizza."

"That's quite the priority list," Charles couldn't help but laugh as he watched the young man throw his legs over the side of the bed and stand experimentally.

"What, should I move the pizza up?" Clint asked with a crooked smile. "Had some in the Capitol, and that is some _beautiful_ stuff, doc."

Charles had to shake his head and chuckle at Clint's antics. If he wanted to use humor to cope, that was fine — he just hoped that Clint would be able to get serious when the time came.

As for Clint, he was already preparing mentally for whoever it was that wanted to use him this time — his dad, Buck, the Games, it was all the same. And if he just played dumb, they didn't look too hard at him.

He wasn't sure what Charles' game was just yet, but he'd figure it out. Until then, play along — and help Nat and Katie.

"So ... what do we do now?" he asked.

Charles had his hands clasped underneath his chin as he studied Clint, but when Clint turned to face him, he smiled kindly. "Well," he said, still with that same smile, "there is another boy who just returned from the other side next door. If things are going well, perhaps we can join them in their tour."

"Yeah? Who's that?" Clint asked, opening the door — but when Clint turned the corner, away from his room in the medical wing, he was nearly bowled over by a familiar-sounding young man in a hospital gown who all but tackled him with a bear hug.

"Oh! Oh, the _band is back together!_ " the gowned boy all but shouted in Clint's ear.

Clint let out an 'oof' of air as Wade hit him, and it took him a second to realize who he was without the mask, though the overly enthusiastic welcome was a pretty clear indicator. "What are _you_ doing here?" he asked, trying to put some distance between himself and his former Career ally by the simple device of putting his hands on Wade's shoulders and pushing.

"I don't know!" Wade said in an overly excited tone as he just clutched harder to Clint and snuggled into him closer. "It's just … well I guess they decided it was no fun without me?"

"Notice they brought you back without the Halloween mask on your face," Clint said, still trying to get distance.

"Oh, it's alright, sweetie, you'll get used to being the second most handsome fella around here."

"Still talking to yourself, I see," Clint shot back, giving up on getting distance and just starting to shake his head and chuckle.

Wade paused and finally loosened his grip on Clint, suddenly still as what Clint had said sank in. "Oh my God," he said in almost a whisper. "I'm not." He looked at Clint with widening eyes. "I'm not. It's … there's no one else in there."

"I was kidding," Clint said guardedly, not sure what was happening.

"I know," Wade said, patting Clint's shoulder. "I know you were … but .. there aren't … no… there's no one arguing with me."

"That's actually really good," Cassie said from the doorway Wade had emerged from, looking genuinely pleased. "I heard Claire saying they were hoping to reverse physical brain damage with you, so ... that's good, right? It worked, whatever they did."

"It did," Wade said, still sounding a bit shocked as the smile began to grow. He turned to Clint with an almost maniacal grin. "We're like _twinsies_ now. We woke up together. It's _fate._ "

"We're _not_ ," Clint insisted, shaking his head. He didn't want to know what Wade had in mind to celebrate being 'twinsies.'

"We _are._ We _so_ are," Wade said, the grin growing wider. "I'm going to send out waking up announcements. What are you weighing in at these days, little brother?"

"If you go around telling people we woke up together, I swear I'll tell 'em you were the little spoon just to get ahead of the rumors."

"That's fine, stud muffin, I'm flexible. I'm not ashamed of my fine backside," Wade said as he let Clint pass him by just to jump on his back. "How about a piggy back ride? I'll go first. We can take turns!"

"I can't decide which is worse here," Clint said toward a giggling Cassie. "The brother thing or the stud muffin thing."

"Don't jump on him. You'll break him," Cassie called out to Wade.

"But he likes it!" Wade said before he leaned forward and kissed Clint on the cheek.

"Get off," Clint grumbled as he tried to reach around to grab a handful of hospital gown and pull him over his shoulder.

"He's going for my ass!" Wade shouted. "You're gonna get a handful if you keep that up."

"To kick it," Clint clarified, though he was a little frustrated when he was _tired_ trying to stay upright and grab Wade. "What, did you gain five hundred pounds?"

"Oh, you're a little wobbly, little brother — how about we switch out? My turn to play pack mule."

"Your bodies are still recovering. You have to get used to your muscles again," Cassie explained sympathetically to a frustrated-looking Clint.

"I gotcha. Right," Wade said nodding. "Oooh, work-out buddies!"

"Of the three, that's the best option I've gotten so far," Clint said, knowing a good out when he saw one. "Fine. Where's the gym?"

"He's just in a rush to slip into spandex," Wade stage whispered to Cassie. "Just a question of if it'll be purple or black."

"Um, most of our mission wear is black," Cassie replied earnestly, not quite getting the joke.

"It's a shame," Wade said. "He's a vision in purple with wings on his face."

"My stylist didn't listen to me about anything past 'what's your favorite color?'" Clint explained Cassie's way with a long-suffering sigh.

"And a bold and manly choice that was," Wade said, nodding.

"That's okay," Cassie said as she tried to be diplomatic between the two boys. "At least yours listened. I was in red and black because, well, coal."

"Oooh," Wade said, abandoning Clint in favor of Cassie and draping an arm over her shoulders. "I was red and black too. Did wonders for my caboose."

"It made me look like a tomato," Cassie told him with a sheepish giggle.

"With your figure?" Wade said in a scandalized tone. "Not a chance."

"Well, I was, like, twelve at the time. My stylist thought the baby fat on my cheeks was cute," she said. "My partner's stylist told him to shut up. Wish I'd've gotten him instead; he was new and _listened_."

"Oh, that sounds awful. My stylist thought she was the queen of the dead. Or at least … she dressed that way," Wade said with a frown. "Which is weird, because the _real_ queen of the dead would not have been caught … anywhere in what that girl wore. Who thought she was a good choice?"

"I dunno. I don't get to make the decisions, but she sounds like a real pain," Cassie said, making a face. "Mine thought she was some kind of goddess. But she was really just in it to throw together some black and whatever colors she thought looked like embers and then go fawn over Odin." She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling before she turned her attention back to Wade. "The blush made me look like a tomato, I mean it."

"Eww, that's like … he's _ancient_ ," Wade said. He scrunched his nose at the mental image of Cassie's stylist trailing after Odin before he decided he never wanted to imagine that again and changed the subject rapidly. "So. Are we the only ones here? I mean. I know who made the final three … but then I got bored and wandered off. I could see where it was gonna go."

"Oh, no!" Cassie said with a grin as she perked up under his arm. "We've already got a few people from this year awake, and there's five of us from previous years. Um, Tony Stark and Sinthea Schmidt … Steve Rogers and Ororo Munroe … Kurt Wagner and Kate Bishop."

"Oh, yeah, that was tragic … those two," Wade said, shaking his head. "So Logan won then?"

Cassie nodded. "How'd you know? You died early on."

"I said I saw all the way to the final three and got bored, weren't you listening?" Wade said, shaking his head. "Gotta pay attention, Cassie Lang."

"Don't worry about it, Cassie," Clint told her with a sympathetic look when she just blinked at Wade in wide-eyed confusion. "Don't try to follow his train of thought, or you'll get run over."

Cassie giggled. "Or be derailed?"

Ignoring the comments, Wade looked around the halls. "So, I'm guessing the dating pool is a little … thin down here," he said. "I just got out of a one-way relationship myself… so … you know. I'm freed up."

"I call not it," Clint grumbled out Wade's way.

"You say that now, big spoon," Wade countered before he blew Clint a kiss.

"There's a pretty strict no fraternization rule. Which Kate and Kurt get in trouble for breaking all the time," Cassie explained in a stage whisper before Clint could say anything.

"What are they gonna do, kill us? Again?" Wade said.

"No, but they're not allowed to go on missions together right now." Cassie stood up on her toes so she could be closer to Wade's ear to whisper, "They're on probation."

He made a scandalized sound. " _Nooooo,_ " he said, shaking his head slowly. "No one can stand in the way of Kart — they won't listen anyhow. They'll be sneaking off … into the training room after hours … fake lakes ..." As he faded off, he started to mumble more and more until he realized the other two were looking at him, and then he stopped, turned their way innocently, and grinned.

"But it's just the missions, right? No separation otherwise?" Clint asked, looking a little more intrigued by the conversation now.

"He's worried about being able to make kissy faces with the angry redhead from Two if she wakes up too," Wade whispered _loudly._

Cassie looked a little surprised as she turned toward Clint, who was doing his best impression of someone who didn't know what Wade was talking about. "Well, if she's on the list, she's not here," she said. "I haven't heard anything about her, sorry."

"Yet," Wade said. " _Yet._ The Clintasha monster would not stand to let this ship die. No no no, it'll have to happen. It's _fate._ "

"Are you just going to mash up everyone's names the whole time you're here?" Cassie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just when the ship is sound," Wade replied, then drew himself up importantly. "I am the ship christener."

"You sure he's sane?" Clint asked, though he was smirking a bit to himself. "I don't think he's made sense for the past five minutes."

Wade waggled his finger at Clint. "You … you better watch it mister."

"Or what — you'll refuse to give me piggyback rides?"

"I'll kiss you publicly," Wade said. "Full on the lips. French. They'll talk about it for years."

Clint just shook his head, though he did take a step back to put some distance between himself and Wade. "Right. C'mon, Cassie, let's just… finish the tour."

"Oh … now I want to," Wade said.

"What would your names be?" Cassie asked almost before she could stop herself, and Clint looked like he had been _betrayed_.

"Hawkpool," Wade said without missing a beat.

"Someone just please show me to wherever we're supposed to dump this guy," Clint half moaned.

"I hope we're roomies," Wade said with a grin. "I call top bunk!"

"Nobody's had to share rooms yet," Cassie promised a suddenly very worried-looking Clint. "There's still plenty of empties. Though… there's a _lot_ this year. So I can't make any promises about next year. If there is a next year to draw from. They keep saying we'll be out of here 'soon' but…" She shrugged up to her ears as she trailed off. " _Anyway,_ this is the training room. Which is right next to the med bay. Because, well, yeah."

Wade followed her, pretending to take snapshots of such remarkable landmarks as the various offices and Sin, in the training room, who he described as the ' _Angrier_ Redhead' as they passed through. He even made Cassie and Clint pose in front of the women's locker room, though Clint looked completely unamused. More so when he made him pose in front of the medical bay because, "Look mom, no bandages!"

"If personal cameras weren't contraband, I'd know what to get you for Christmas," Cassie said with a smirk as she led them to the residential areas.

"It's okay, sweet, sweet Cassie Lang, we're making _memories._ And no one can take that away from us."

She just grinned back at him before she pointed their attention to the right. "That way's the boys' rooms, and to the left is the girls'. Cafeteria's there—" She pointed to the double doors. "—and Charles and Dr. Essex have offices down the hall, plus Coulson's briefing room." She held out her hands with the palms turned up as she shrugged. "And that's it, really. Doors lock at night, so no midnight snacks or anything."

"That's a shame," Wade said. "I'd like a midnight anything every now and again."

"I've never been so glad to be locked in," Clint said dryly. "Speaking as the big spoon."

"It'll be so _cold_ without you," Wade said with an overly devastated expression on his face.

Cassie just shook her head at both of them, trying to stifle a little giggle, when one of the doors down the hall opened, and Kate strolled out of it, still wearing the full black missionwear from the second-ever mission Coulson had asked her to run, a much simpler one than the one to Four.

It took her a second to process who she was seeing as she saw the two new boys with Cassie, but when she did, there was zero hesitation as she flat tackled Clint to the ground in a hug with a shouted, "CLINT!"

"Um, NO fraternization, young lady," Wade said as he tapped her on the shoulder, but she didn't make a move to let Clint up.

"Puh-lease," she said, waving him off without looking at him. "This is _Clint_." She hugged her old Games partner around the shoulders and neck as Clint looked surprised and then just settled into a tentative hug that kept tightening the longer she held onto him.

"I _know_ ," Wade said. "You two were great together … even better than us!"

At that, Kate finally turned to look at him with one eyebrow raised. "Who're you?" she asked.

"Katie, meet Wade," Clint said, gesturing between the two of them. "He was the lunatic in the mask before this place did their voodoo thing."

"He's the big spoon," Wade said. "But only because I'm the pretty one now."

Kate made a face at Wade before she turned toward Clint and decided to just ignore Wade for the time being. "You're _alive_ ," she breathed out and hugged him again, and Clint nodded.

"So're you," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but _I_ didn't get torn apart by monkeys," Kate pointed out, still completely unwilling to even think about letting him go just yet. "That was _horrible_."

"No proof of it," Clint replied. He paused for a moment and looked her over before he asked, tentatively, "What happened to you?"

" _His_ district partner got me with a sai before I shot her." Kate waved her hand at Wade without looking his way. "And I battled Five half-dressed and bandaged. It was good television, _apparently_ ," Kate said as she pulled a horrible, horrible face.

"Bonus points for killing the murder princess, by the way," Wade said. "She was no fun at all."

"Yeah, I heard," Kate said with a little sigh, though she looked a bit uncomfortable at the reminder.

The silence only lasted for a beat, though.

"Hey Cassie Lang? Do you have anything else you can show me while the two hawks squawk?" Wade said, offering Cassie his arm.

"Well, I can show you how to sneak into the swimming pool after it's closed," she said in a little whisper that both Hawkeyes could hear.

"I'll need my water wings," he said softly. "But if you want to show me how …"

"You don't know how to swim?" She looked a bit surprised. "I thought Careers got training!"

"No, I do … I just want you to show me." Wade grinned at her. "And it's an excuse to have you 'teach' me. I'll try not to drown on the first time out."

Cassie just shook her head at him as she took his offered arm. "Well, if you know how to swim, there's diving classes too," she offered.

"She's not getting it," Wade 'whispered' over his shoulder to Clint. "Maybe I should drown a little bit."

Clint just chuckled. "She's, like, eight. I think you're going over her head."

" _Fourteen_ ," Cassie said with a glare Clint's way.

"Well, that's just three years younger than me, sweet Cassie Lang," Wade said. "And probably more matured, too."

"Everyone's more mature than you," Clint said as Kate finally let him up off the floor.

"How come you call her that, anyway?" Kate asked Wade, genuinely curious.

"Cassie Lang, Goddess of the underground Zombies?"

"That's my name now, and you can't take it back," Cassie informed him.

"I'm just saying, do you have to use her full name?" Kate asked. "Isn't it a little formal?"

"I think what she's saying is — if you call her Katherine, she'll deck you," Clint told Wade with a little smirk.

"Yes, that," Kate agreed, grinning up at Clint before she hugged him one more time, for good measure, just to prove to herself he was alive and well.

"Don't worry, Better Hawkeye," Wade said, leaning in with a conspiratorial sort of look. "I know _just_ what to call you."

"Careful there. If my… not-a-boyfriend thinks you're trying to charm me, he'll get mad," Kate warned him.

"Me? Stand in the way of _Kart_?" Wade looked completely affronted, his hand over his heart.

"I… am not sure I want to know what he's talking about," Kate said, turning to Clint, who just shrugged easily.

"I would not think to cross my brother the munitions officer like that," Wade continued with a theatrical gasp.

"I think that means he's not hitting on you," Clint offered when Kate just stared at Wade. "In case you wanted subtitles or something."

"Well… good." Kate just shook her head, still not sure what to make of Wade.

"This is going to be _amazing,_ " Wade promised as he tried to put an arm around both hawks. "I wonder if they have a 'Marcia' around here we could play with…"

"Or," Cassie broke in, "we could go to the cafeteria and get something to eat."

"Yes, that," Kate said, pointing at her friend with her other finger on her nose. "I just got back from scouting with Maverick, sniper training, you know, so — food. Food would be appreciated."

"Lead the way, princess purple," Wade said as he pulled Cassie over to the group of three. "It's like we're in the Wizard of Oz. Clint gets to be the scarecrow, don'tcha?"

"What's that make you?" Clint said without confirming or denying anything.

"The Cowardly Lion of course," Wade replied. "He's the most snuggly."

"Typical," Clint said, shaking his head as the group of them strolled through the cafeteria doors. Most of the others were still in training — it was still early enough to be considered afternoon - but to Cassie and Kate's surprise, Tony was actually out of his workshop. Showered and in new clothes and grinning their way when he saw that there were girls to smile at.

"Oh, now isn't he a sight for sore eyes," Wade said, looking a bit surprised.

"I thought he was a myth," Cassie teased, loud enough or Tony to hear. "Considering no one's seen him in ages."

"Why is that, sweet Cassielang?" Wade asked. "Has he been out stealing hearts and causing record breaking profits everywhere he goes?"

"No, he's been locked in his workshop like a bridge troll or something," Cassie said, which had Kate giggling.

"You just don't understand his _genius mind_ ," Wade said. "He gets an idea up in that big beautiful noggin of his and if he doesn't get it out, it'll drive him nuts."

"Nice to see someone gets it — sort of," Tony said, his head to the side as he watched Wade, clearly trying to place him before he gave up and shook his head. "Welcome back to the land of the living, by the way. _Some_ of us had to work to get you there."

"And those of us lucky enough to have that big brain on their side thank you, _sir_ ," Wade replied definitely more official sounding than they'd heard him yet.

"Do you two know each other, then?" Cassie asked, watching the back and forth with a barely restrained smile.

"No," Wade said, shaking his head simply. "Not at all."

"Then how do you know…?"

"Forget it, Cassie," Clint told her seriously. "Just accept that he researches these things and try not to think about the rest of it too hard, or you'll get a headache."

"So, what's been going on around this place in preparation for your favorite tribute's triumphant return?" Wade asked. "Oh. And Clint. He did come back too."

"Oh, the usual," Cassie said as she dropped into the seat across from Tony and the rest of the group joined the table. "Black ops and intrigue and lots of training."

"That sounds like fun," Wade said with a bright, interested expression. "What's your team called?"

"We… just sort of go where Coulson sends us. We don't... " Cassie frowned.

"Oh," he said mildly. "Wrong team then." He paused and tipped his head a bit. "Must not be time yet. It's hard to know what happens when sometimes. Oh well."

"Bishop over here's got a team name," Tony offered without even looking up from the coffee he was intent on draining.

"Oh?" Wade asked, turning Kate's way. "What … is your team name? Should we say it at the same time?" He started to form a word, that started with a W, but quickly scrunched up his face and tried to echo her as she said her team name.

"Team Awesome," Kate said with a little smirk. "Which you aren't on, you goon."

"Yeah, that's … not the one I was thinking of," Wade admitted. "But seeing as you do have an opening in _your_ team … I would like to respectfully submit my application to join." He straightened up and put on his most professional expression. "I specialize in double wield Katanas in the most non-traditional ways possible. Well. Not the most, but very very close to it. I can think of … t-wo more non-traditional ways."

"It's just me and Kurt," Kate said, shaking her head. "We're not really shopping for a third wheel."

"Oh, I thought he was on a different team," Wade said, shaking his head. "Man. I really am off kilter here. Getting _waaay_ ahead of myself."

"That would suggest those two are ever _not_ going to be on the same team," Tony pointed out, one eyebrow quirked. "Which if you know as much as you act like you do — you'd know how wrong that is."

"Oh, you'll see," Wade said with a growing smile. "She'll have reasons to not join that one."

Kate looked like she was going to argue the point, but Clint kicked her under the table. "Just nod and go with it, Katie. Don't argue with crazy. The doc in the wheelchair can have a crack at him later."

"Oh, we'll get along swimmingly once he comes clean on what the big master plan is," Wade said.

"Yeah, I didn't get much in the way of specifics either," Clint admitted. "Just a lot of Camp Revolution talk."

"We'll compare notes later," Kate promised him. "After I out-shoot you in the range," she added, this time with a little teasing sparkle in her eyes.

"What range?"

Kate grinned even wider. "Cassie, you didn't….?"

"Carol and Rhodey were there, so I skipped it on the tour," Cassie said, which pretty much explained everything.

"Oh. It is so on, sister," Wade promised. "And I'm gonna wipe the _floor_ with you."

"I was talking to Clint, but you are _so_ on," Kate said, leveling her finger at him with a crooked grin.

"Yes!" Wade nodded far too many times before breaking into a grin of his own. "Hawkeye versus Deadpool — it will be epic!"


	12. (Nearly) Complete Set

**Notes: Well, y'all, it's time to live up to our pen name. *scoots out of the way to let the 'awesome'ness commence ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 12: "(Nearly) Complete Set"**

* * *

 _September 12_

 _Simulation Room in the Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Kurt winced as he slid on the wet streets. He didn't know what was so wet about them — maybe the simulator had decided to mimic conditions of the day after a rain; he didn't know — but it was making his stealth training that much more difficult.

He saw, through the window he'd been able to sneak into, Matt turn his head in Kurt's direction and grin. "Heard you," Matt called out.

But Kurt wasn't going to let Matt trick him into giving away his position even more by talking back — he'd learned from the last time when Matt had actually _thrown_ something at him. He was pretty sure that was out of spite. Still, it wasn't _that_ big a rock.

He stayed stock still, measuring his breathing, waiting for longer than he thought was comfortable before he started to move again, this time watching his footing more carefully.

 _Okay. If I can't get in through this window…_ Kurt looked over the building until he spotted an open window a few floors up. It wasn't much, but at least it would let him into the building, and he could figure out the rest from there.

He just had to figure out how to get _up_ there. Couldn't just jump to a window a few floors up. _Flying would be so handy right now. Or teleportation_. He grinned at himself, feeling more calm.

This was part of the exercise, Kurt knew, and he also knew that Matt was trying to test his resourcefulness and ability to think on his feet. So he gritted his teeth and stepped lightly forward, watching where his feet went so he didn't disturb anything in the street.

When he got closer to the building, he saw that some of the bricks were slightly out of place, and he grinned. He'd seen Peter do something like this in the Games, and while he wasn't quite the wall-crawler Peter was, it looked like the bricks were spaced out enough that he could reach. It would just take a little doing — and he would have to be careful not to fall. Of course, if the bricks were out of place because the mortar was crumbling… he pushed the thought away.

He started up the wall, his arms straining to reach each of the breaks in the wall, and he had to move slower than he would have liked so that his heavy breathing didn't give him away. Where he could, he paused to rest against the side of the building, the cool brick against his sweaty face, to get his breathing back under control, before he started moving again.

It took an agonizingly long time before Kurt reached the open window, and when he at last pulled himself through, he lay flat against the floor, not moving, just simply trying not to pant as loudly as his body wanted him to. Matt was scary good — he could hear panting even from two floors away, Kurt was absolutely convinced.

Kate would call him paranoid, but then, she couldn't resist teasing him about anything, could she?

Once he had done that, though, Kurt drew himself up to look around the room. There was a door on the far side of the empty space, and a simple cot. Thankfully, there wasn't much else, and he approached the door carefully. He couldn't just _open_ it. What if the hinges squeaked? Kurt was half-convinced Matt could hear that, too. He was _determined_ to learn from four hours of embarrassment yesterday.

So, carefully, Kurt set to removing the hinges on the door.

With that done, Kurt carefully set the door aside and tread as lightly he could on the boarded floor, terrified that any of the boards might creak underneath him before he reached the stairwell on the other end of the hallway.

To his surprise, Kurt made it to the stairwell with little incident, and he leaned heavily on the handrail, testing out it before he slid silently down its length for a few floors.

He paused at the door to the room he knew Matt was holed up in, surprised that he hadn't heard Matt call out yet. Maybe he _was_ getting better at this.

But, of course, as he worked the hinges to the last door, it swung open on him, and he had to duck as Matt swung his cane at his head.

"What gave me away?" Kurt groaned.

"You skidded when you hit the stairs," Matt said.

"No, seriously."

Matt grinned. "I told you—I'm hard to sneak up on."

Kurt sighed. He was disappointed, but somehow not at all surprised. "Are we going to reset it, then?"

Matt shook his head. "No, I think we'll stop here for today. It's getting late."

Kurt glanced up at the artificial skyline to see the small numbers in the corner of the ceiling. He'd been at this longer than he'd thought, he realized. Dinner was probably over and done with by now.

He sighed but couldn't resist the opportunity to ask, "But I am getting better, right?"

"Well, _I_ would have jumped from the adjacent building and rolled with the momentum to hide the sound, but I like what you did, climbing the side of the building."

"How did you—"

Matt grinned. "Trade secret."

* * *

 _September 13_

 _Essex Laboratories_

* * *

It had been several days of strength training — trying to pound her body back into the shape it had been in before she died — when Natasha had another visitor. If the man running the show could be considered to be a visitor.

"You seem to be coming back to peak nicely," Essex said smoothly. He stood on the far side of the room, removed from her, a smart move even if he knew he had her obedience.

"I'm ready to get moving," she told him with a nod.

"And how are your sessions with Xavier going?" he asked. His tone was easy, but she knew better; she knew just from what she had observed from talking with Xavier that the two men didn't like each other. There was a rivalry there, and while she didn't understand all of it, she knew enough.

She wrinkled her nose the slightest bit. "He's making a play for your operatives," she told him. "Trying to break my allegiance to the Red Room."

"I'm not concerned," he said with a wave. "Those that I lose are expendable."

"Still, seems a shame to lose so much investment if the others were also brought back from the dead," she said, thinking of Clint and the fact that Xavier had mentioned he was awake before she could quite stop herself.

"Some of them should not have been," he replied coldly, and it was like a rebuke as she immediately straightened up.

"You won't lose me, sir," she promised, sounding very nearly earnest. "I haven't figured out who's pulling his strings, but he doesn't fool me. I know a puppet when I see one."

"Good," Essex said soothingly. "I knew he wouldn't get past you. Your reputation is too good for his games."

She smirked at the compliment; it was the first he had given her since she began her new life after the Games — at least, the first that didn't come with an immediate criticism of something else. She paused and seemed to consider something for a moment before she said, "I know there are others. Xavier told me Barton was one of them. He could be a good asset; I've trained with and fought with him before."

"See what you can do to find out more," Essex said, though he didn't sound as interested as Natasha would have hoped. "And report to me what you find."

"Yes, sir," she said, schooling her expression to hide her disappointment. She would just have to look out for Clint herself. Like she'd always done.

* * *

 _September 14_

 _Tahiti Medical Wing_

* * *

Peter Parker hadn't opened his eyes yet, but he was trailing his hands and fingers over the sheets experimentally, then reaching up to his chest — though he didn't find any of the marks that he expected to find. He let his hand fall to the side and couldn't help but be nervous. If he opened his eyes, he might find out he was dead. And not knowing was a lot better than being dead. Maybe. _Possibly_. He wasn't sure.

It was ridiculously bright when he finally did open his eyes, and he winced away. "Ooh, someone turn down the sun," he grumbled, eyes tightly shut again before he started to blink, trying to focus as slowly, the medical room swam into view.

"Welcome back, Mr. Parker," Charles said as Peter's eyes focused enough to land on the victor sitting beside his bed. "My name is Charles Xavier. I'm here to help you to adjust."

"Right - Professor X," Peter said, nodding quickly as his heart sped up bit by bit. "Norman — I mean, Mr. Osborne — he made me memorize all the victors' names and fighting styles. I think he thought it would help me figure out how your tributes would fight?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "So ... do I call you Professor or Mr. Xavier or…?

"You can call me Charles," the man said warmly.

"Okay." Peter took in a deep breath and looked around, still shrunken in on himself. "So… what is this place?"

"This is a top secret facility, far from prying eyes. The doctors here specialize in trying to right the wrongs that the Games perpetuate. Or, at least, that is the intention."

"So you brought me back from the dead?" Peter sat up straighter, looking around with a little more understanding. "I mean, thanks, but ... there are other people you could bring back."

"Who would you suggest?" Charles asked with an interested expression on his face, as if he was studying Peter like a particularly unusual insect. "If you could choose."

"I guess it depends on who won," Peter admitted. "I mean, only one person wins, right? But there were plenty of kids that didn't deserve to die. Like Kurt or Sin or Ororo — or Steve or Tony or Kate or Logan." He'd listed them off on his fingers and only stopped to frown Charles' way. He was sure he could come up with more given half a minute to really think it over.

"You have quite the list," Charles said with a little smirk.

"Well, they had a better chance at winning than me. But they didn't deserve to die, either, and I know not everybody… I mean, only one person wins, so..."

"When you're ready, you can watch some of the Games footage," Charles promised him with a kind smile. "But nearly everyone on your list is already here."

"Really?" Peter brightened and straightened up at that, then paused. "Wait, who's _not_?"

"Logan."

"Why not?" Peter half demanded, throwing one leg over the side of his bed. "You know he didn't mean to — it was the jackers and—"

"He _won_ , Mr. Parker."

"Oh!" Peter stopped halfway through his argument and stared at Charles for a moment, then moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his fingers running over the folds of the blanket thoughtfully. "That — that sounds about right, actually."

"How are you feeling right now?" Charles asked. "You look rather pale."

"Is that normal?" Peter asked, wide-eyed, looking down at himself. "I mean, didn't you have to do a lot of, um, putting me back together? How _should_ I look?"

"We did do a lot of work," Charles said with a nod. "But I meant you looked a bit paler now than when we started to chat. Are you alright, all things considered?"

"Honestly? A little freaked out?" Peter shook his head. "I mean. I distinctly remember dying. That definitely happened. And now I'm in… I don't even know what this place is, and so many of my friends died, but they didn't and — how does this even make _sense_?"

"It doesn't make a bit of sense," Charles agreed. "But rather than listening to me try to explain what I scarcely understand myself, would you like to see some of your friends?"

"Yes!" Peter nodded fervently.

Charles looked toward the mirror with an enigmatic smile, and not even two seconds later — the door to the room opened, and in rushed Kate and Kurt.

Kate of course went straight for the hug, and Kurt waited to see if Peter could handle being halfway bowled over. But, since Peter didn't seem to object, he hurried to do the same. "How are you feeling, _mein Freund_?" Kurt asked, his grin barely restrained.

"Very, very happy to see you," Peter said as he reached over to pull his friends into a hug with a surprisingly strong grip. For a long moment, the three of them held the hug before Peter looked straight at Kurt. "I'm so sorry. I didn't move fast enough."

Kurt frowned and shook his head. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Peter released his grip and slid back against the pillows as he started babbling. "I do, though. I didn't save you." His shoulders drooped. "I abandoned Logan. He had no idea, and I left him and you. I didn't even stay to say goodbye or anything. And I never found Kate, and it wasn't like I was doing anything to try and find her, I just stopped caring and, and—"

"Peter," Kurt interrupted. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yeah, it wasn't your fault," Kate agreed as both of them just hugged Peter tightly where he sat.

"Easy for you to say," Peter mumbled. " _You_ didn't abandon your friend after he killed your other friend." His head suddenly shot up, making Kurt jump. "You know he didn't mean it, right?" he said, seeming to direct the question to both of them at once. "Logan — it was the jackers. He would never have done that. We were hallucinating, and—"

"I know," Kate assured him. "The X man showed us after they brought us back."

"Good." Peter nodded decisively before he looked up at Kate. "I'm sorry I didn't find you. I know I didn't see your face in the sky when I went, so you were still out there, and—"

"Really, Peter, it's fine. Stop apologizing," Kurt cut in.

"Yeah, but it was crazy at the end. I mean. Really creepy mutts and …" Peter shuddered.

"Yeah, I know," Kate said, putting her hand on his arm.

"I was hoping you or Logan would win," he told her honestly, with a sheepish little smirk. "I mean - it had to be Team Awesome, right?"

"Right," Kate agreed with a little smile.

"But we all still remember dying, right? It's not just me?" Peter asked, a little nervous.

"No, we all remember dying," Kurt assured him.

Peter made a face. "Yeah, I guess it's too much to ask to just draw straws to decide the winner. Woulda been nice to know we were all coming back, though? I mean. I don't know that it would have made it easier, but maybe?"

"Doubtful," Charles interjected, seeing that the boy was working through his thoughts well. "If you're feeling up to it, then Kate and Kurt can show you your new quarters and fill you in on how things work around here."

Peter nodded and shifted so he could get out of the hospital bed, the tile was cold on his feet as Kate and Kurt were beaming on either side of him. "Team Awesome is back together again… well. Mostly," he said, the beaming smile falling quickly. "We've _got_ to find our stabby friend and finish the set, or it's not _really_ Team Awesome."

"True that," Kate agreed with a nod.

"As soon as we can," Kurt added with a decisive nod.

"Then lead the way, you two," Peter said, gesturing out in front of him. "You two can just — hold hands or something. I don't need holding up.

"Not in the halls," Kurt said. "No fraternizing. We've been told. Repeatedly."

"Kissing in the halls?" Peter couldn't help but tease as both of his former allies turned a brilliant pink and shared a glance.

"No," Kate said, brushing her hair back from her ear. "We, um. No, that hasn't — no, not..."

"Not _lately_ ," Kurt clarified with a laugh and a devilish grin.

"I kissed him when I woke up," Kate admitted, seemingly talking to the floor. "But then we found out that was a big no-no. So."

"And I _missed it?_ " Peter blurted out, looking almost comically crushed. "So unfair."

The young couple shared a glance with an expression of disbelief between them. "We don't pick the order that tributes wake up," Kurt said with a little laugh.

"I was _robbed_ ," Peter said, shaking his head with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. "I so called this from the beginning."

"Let's get something straight, Peter," Kate said, sticking her finger in his face. "There is no 'this' officially. Or we are in trouble."

"Oh come on," Peter almost whined as he threw his arms up and just gave her a look. "I _called this!_ Ask Logan!" He stopped for a second, mid-gesture, and frowned. "I mean. Yeah. You just wait. He'll back me up when we get him back where he belongs, _with us_."

"I'm sure he will," Kurt said, looking highly entertained. "And as soon as we do what we set out to do, he'll tell us for himself."

"Which is why we gotta hurry this revolution thing along," Kate said with a nod. "The sooner we do that, the sooner we don't have to be so secret about the not-so-dead thing, so we can get Logan away from the district crazies. And start fraternizing," she added with a little blush as she glanced over at Kurt.

Peter looked thoughtful for a moment and then turned to the two of them with a frown. "If Charles knows — doesn't that mean _all_ the victors know? What's the holdup?"

"No. Only some of them do," Kate said. "Bobbi Morse trains me with staves and hand-to-hand when she comes up to the Capitol. And I think Hank McCoy and Reed Richards are doing some work on the undead science?" She rubbed the back of her neck. "Oh, and Rhodey from Three is one of the flight instructors."

"That's it?" Peter said, frowning deeper as he came nearly to a full stop.

"That's as many as we know," Kurt said.

"So... he thinks we're dead," Peter surmised.

Kurt looked toward Charles for a moment. "They couldn't tell him during the interviews and victory at the Capitol. I'm sure they'll tell him later."

"They didn't tell Logan after the interviews," Charles said as gently as possible. "It's very likely they won't."

"Why not?" Peter asked, suddenly sounding much younger. "He should _know_!"

"I understand how you must be feeling," Charles said as he tipped his head their way. "But I know it's not in the plans. I do know that I can't tell him myself, or the whole of you will end up under Dr. Essex's full control."

"That ... doesn't sound like a good thing," Peter said uncertainly.

"He's the creep who _thinks_ he's in charge when our favorite X man has to be back in Ten," Kate explained with a little glare.

"He has different methods, and different beliefs," Charles explained tightly.

"That's what I said. He's a creep," Kate said.

"Just behave, if you can, and you won't have to deal with him much at all," Charles said quietly. "Which I sincerely hope you can manage to do, since I have to return to my other duties in Ten very soon."

* * *

 _September 16_

 _Training Room, Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Peter had only been awake for a few days, so he was a little wary of getting started on training already, but Kurt assured him that Matt was a great coach.

"He works with me on hand-to-hand when I'm not doing fencing," Kurt said.

"They've got you with a sword again, huh?" Peter asked with a grin.

"Hey, I'm good with a sword," Kurt said, matching his friend's grin.

"Oh, yeah, I remember you showing off as often as possible for a _certain someone_ in our alliance," Peter said with a smirk.

Kurt gave his friend a raised eyebrow and then shook his head. "Good luck with Matt, Peter," he said, heading off to the sword rack to start his warmup. "You'll need it!"

Peter tried to do a little stretching of his own, though he wasn't quite sure what he was doing until his trainer showed up, and once he arrived, Peter straightened up and grinned his way.

The trainer, Peter saw, had reddish brown hair and a broad smile as he put out his hand. "Matt Murdock," he said, and he sounded friendly enough at least.

"Peter Parker," Peter replied before he half-blurted out. "Sorry, but — you're blind. Are you blind?"

"Yes. Well-spotted."

"Sorry, "Peter said again, flushing the slightest bit.

"It's okay," Matt assured him, with the same pleasant smile. "That's usually the first thing people notice when I show up to training."

"Does it bother you?" Peter said a bit sheepishly. "I mean, that that's the first thing…"

"It used to," Matt said with a light shrug before he took up a fighting stance. "But they get over it pretty fast. Alright. Show me what you know."

Peter's eyebrows lifted, but he tried to copy Matt's stance as best as he could. When it was apparent that his new trainer was waiting for him to make the first move, he threw a punch — and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back and looking up at the ceiling.

"You telegraph your moves," Matt said as he offered a hand up to Peter.

"Yeah, okay," Peter said as he stood back up and brushed himself off, letting out a long breath. He tried for a little apologetic smile, realizing only too late that Matt couldn't see it. "I guess three days in the Capitol wasn't exactly enough training to learn about telegraphing."

"It's not enough time to learn _anything_ ," Matt agreed, shaking his head. "Alright. Put up your dukes. Let me take a look at your stance." He smirked. "So to speak."

Peter couldn't help but grin as he did just that, settling into his best fighting stance, and he had to admit that it was a little weird when Matt took what was obviously his walking stick and more or less used it to observe Peter's position, correcting him as he went.

"So ... you don't train in the Capitol, do you?" Peter asked as Matt corrected the way he was holding his fists.

"Waste of time," Matt said with an easy shrug as he let go of Peter's hand. "Don't tuck your thumb in — didn't they teach you that much, at least?"

Peter flushed a bit and untucked his thumb. "Yeah, they did," he admitted, remembering now what the Capitol trainers had said, but he'd really been paying more attention to traps and what plants would and would not get him killed.

"It's alright," Matt said with a grin. "Like I said, three days isn't long enough to learn anything, and then you had almost two weeks of terror to unlearn it all before you came back. Not the best introduction to fighting in the world."

"Not the best introduction to anything, actually," Peter pointed out, and Matt just smiled that much wider.

Matt walked Peter through the basics, correcting his defensive stance and then walking him through a few jabs and blocks before it was clear Peter was wearing out, his muscles still untested.

"Let's take a break," Matt suggested as he gestured toward the bench nearby, and he picked up a water bottle and tossed it Peter's way.

Peter looked a bit surprised as he fumbled catching the water bottle, but he took several long, grateful gulps as he caught his breath.

Matt waited in silence for Peter to feel like he was ready enough to keep going, but the boy paused for a moment and tipped his head at Matt. "Hey, can I ask you something?" he asked suddenly.

"You just did."

Peter snorted at that. "I mean something else."

Matt cocked his head to one side before he slowly nodded. "Alright, shoot."

"Great." Peter took in a big breath of air before he leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him as he searched for the best way to approach his question. "See, you seem nice, and Kurt likes you, so I figure you're a good guy — so I have to ask: how'd you end up in this place?"

Matt looked honestly taken back. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's not like this setup is that much better than what we were in before," Peter tried to explain. "It's still a bunch of teenagers being trained to fight for other people — probably to the death, too. And I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm so here for taking down Thanos and all that. But we didn't really ... I mean. Nobody _asked_ us."

"You can say no, Peter," Matt pointed out.

"Not really, no," Peter said, shaking his head hard as he tried to clarify. "I mean, _how_ would you say no? This country's pretty awful, and it would be great to fix that, so how can I say no?"

"You _can_ say no," Matt said. "And no one would blame you. It's not your responsibility."

Peter gave Matt a bit of a look, then, realizing Matt couldn't see it, just sighed out his breath. "It still feels like we're pawns of the guys in charge, so I was wondering how you ended up in a place like this when you seem to be a decent person."

"You're decent too, Peter. And so are most of the people in charge around here," Matt explained before he shrugged his shoulders a bit. "But… I get where you're coming from. I do. I can just tell you that I believe in the fight we're fighting. I think it's worth working for."

"Even if it means you're down here training kids to fight in a war?" Peter asked quietly. "What happens if one of us doesn't come back?"

The smile left Matt's face instantly. "I'd rather give you the tools you need so that's not an issue," he said before he stood up. "Come on, Peter. Water break's over."

* * *

 _September 18_

 _Somewhere in the Tahiti Wing_

* * *

" _Psst. Katie_."

Kate looked around until she found the source of the insistent whispering and had to roll her eyes when she realized that it was Clint peeking around the edge of the hallway. "You're not sneaky," she teased him. "Not even close."

"Not trying to be. Not right now anyway," he countered with a laugh and a grin before he seized her by the arm and just started to pull her along behind him. "C'mon, Katie Kate. I've got something to show you."

Kate glanced over her shoulders before she let out a sigh and nosed down the hallway after him. He stopped in front of one of the unclaimed boys' rooms and motioned her inside. She raised an eyebrow but entered, still not sure what this was all about.

"How flexible are you?" he asked, and she couldn't help but give him a raised-eyebrow look.

"Kind of a personal question, don't you think?"

He waved her off and motioned to the bed, where he crawled underneath the frame and, curious, Kate followed after him. "What're we doing?" she had to whisper.

"Rooms are pretty highly monitored," Clint explained. "Figured I'd show you this one since it's empty so they might not look as close... but as far as I can tell, the vents are in the same place in all of 'em, so it'll still work." He let out a little 'ah' as he unfastened one of the screws holding the vent cover in place, and catching on, Kate scooted closer so that she could help him unscrew the vent as well.

Once the vent cover came off, they set it down and Clint turned back to face her. "Seriously. How flexible are you?"

"Let's find out," Kate said with a wide grin as she shouldered past him to pull herself into the vent, brushing over a few spiderwebs and their occupants in the process. She had to sneeze at all the dust and dirt in the contained space.

"Gesundheit," Clint called out behind her.

She grinned as she pulled herself forward on her stomach through the vents. There was enough room for her — they were actually kind of roomy — and she turned on her side to look down the length of her body to see Clint pulling the vent cover shut behind them.

"So, do you know your way around in here?" Kate asked.

Clint shrugged. "Not much yet," he admitted. "Right now, I've been focused on trying to peek in on the non-residential side of things to see if I can get past the area we're allowed in, but no luck. I keep hitting dead ends."

"Hoping to find Natasha?" Kate asked before she could stop herself.

Clint looked up at her for a moment with an expression she'd seen before in the Games. "Yeah," he said quietly, but before she could say anything about it, he just shook it off and cleared his throat. "Anyway, since I'm not having any luck with that — _yet_ — I figured there was another good use to put these little escape tunnels to."

"Oh? What's that?" Kate asked, though she was still watching Clint's expression to see if it would fall into another look like the Games.

"Oh," Clint said with the air of someone who was suddenly disinterested, even though he was clearly grinning. "I just heard that there were a couple kids who would really like to hold hands and they're not allowed."

"So, what, you think we should just hide in here and hold hands? Real romantic, Hawkeye," Kate said, rolling her eyes.

"No," Clint said, shaking his head. "No, I think we should figure out the route from your room to his, and you can surprise him with a little visit after they lock the doors."

Kate stared at him for a moment before the slow grin started at the corner of her mouth. "If we weren't in such a tight space, I'd come down there and hug you right now."

"You know, we could probably do that, just shift sideways and slide—"

"Forget it, Clint. I'll hug you when we get out of here," Kate said, chuckling, as she rolled back onto her stomach and started to pull herself forward. "Besides, the last thing I need is to need to be cut out of the ductwork wedged in here with you. We'd never live it down."

"You know, it'd be easier with you and Kurt. You're still young and skinny, both of you…"

"Forget it, Clint."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," Clint defended. "Way you were always going on about Kurt in the Games, seems like a shame all you two can do is make heart eyes at each other from across the breakfast table."

"We're that obvious?"

"Yeah, we really gotta work on your subtle sneakiness, Kate," he said, and he sounded half-serious about it, too. "I mean, none of _us_ mind, but the higher-ups get their panties all wadded."

"It's a stupid rule," Kate grumbled.

"You don't gotta tell me," Clint agreed quickly, gesturing around the close ductwork. "I'm the one crawling through spiderwebs to find my old district partner, after all."

"They might not even bring her back," Kate pointed out as she reached an intersection and paused. "Right or left?"

"Left. That's the direction to the girl's' hall, I think. We should find your place first," Clint said, then waited for Kate to navigate the corner before he added, "Charlie told me they brought Nat back."

Kate stopped again and looked down at him past her toes. "Really?"

"Yeah, just about as soon as I woke up."

"Then why isn't she here?" Kate asked.

Clint sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's… a long story."

"Do I look like I have any better plans right now?" Kate pointed out, gesturing at herself.

She heard Clint's chuckle echo up to her around the walls of the vents. "Yeah, you look like you _want_ to have plans with a — what'd you call him? Elf?"

"Yeah." Kate blushed a bit, which Clint seemed to be aware of, even if he couldn't see it. It caused him to laugh even more.

"It's cute, Katie. Really. The heart eyes and the lovesick looks. But you gotta work up to more than just staring at each other when you think no one's watching."

"What makes you think we haven't?" Kate shot back, and Clint grinned outright at that.

"You been kissing in the corners, Katie Kate?"

"Trying to find camera blind spots. Peter's been helping," Kate admitted.

"I'll help too," Clint said with a little laugh. "I mean, seriously, it's a stupid rule."

"It really is."

"And it's not like they gotta _worry_ with you two. I mean, you're pretty much made of innocence and daisies. Most scandalous thing _you'd_ do is kiss for long enough to get caught on even a looped feed."

Kate blushed all the way down to the tips of her toes, and she could hear Clint chuckling, so she cleared her throat and started to pull herself forward. "Let's just… figure out the layout of these ducts, okay?"

"Right behind you," he assured her, still chuckling.

Kate shook her head, rolled her eyes and tried very hard to pretend that she wasn't still a little pink as they reached the next turn and Clint called out for her to turn right.

"You sure you know where you're going?" she called down to him.

"Pretty darn," came the response. "But like I said, I've been more focused on the outer perimeter of these things — which are much better on the security thing, by the way. Pressure plates and lasers by a few vents, so I'm pretty sure those go to Essex's, or Charlie's office, or even Coulson's."

"Pressure plates and lasers?"

"Fun stuff," Clint agreed. "Pressure plates are easy enough to get around if you've got the upper body strength and the flexibility to just hoist yourself up against the sides, but the lasers are a little more complicated."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "It sounds like you've done this kind of stuff before."

Clint let out all his breath. "Left here," he told her before he continued, "Well, I haven't exactly done _this_ stuff. This is way more high-tech than I'm used to… but… I wasn't really a _Career_." He sounded a bit sheepish. "I mean, sure, I knew how to fight, but where I was, it was more of a fighting club than a training academy. Nothing like what they've got for training Sentinels or the place they've got in One."

"But they taught you this kind of stuff there?" Kate asked, unable to hide the jealousy in her voice.

He sounded still more sheepish as he said, "Sorta? I was a petty thief for a while before I joined up, and Buck — the guy in charge there — he figured we could use those talents to fund the program. So… yeah, I ended up being a pretty good thief back in Two."

"I had no idea."

"Not exactly something you brag about, even when you're _not_ being broadcast nationwide," he said before he cleared his throat. "Alright, if I'm on track, this next right should take us past one of the bedrooms."

She couldn't resist the opening for a tease. "You been spying on us ladies, Clint?"

"Katie, I may be a thief and a scoundrel, but I am _not_ a peeping Tom," Clint said, sounding highly offended, and Kate had to giggle at that.

"I believe you," she assured him.

"Good, cuz you know there are rules about that sort of thing, and I don't want to get in trouble for fraternizing," Clint said, and if she had been able to properly reach him, she would have smacked him in the arm for that one.

"You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, I know," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he said it.

When they reached the vent cover to the bedroom, Kate rolled around so they were head to head and then scooted further down and onto her side so that Clint could scoot up near her and help her work the screws on the vent covers. It was a little more complicated from this side, but not impossible. They couldn't see very far into the room except the dresser beyond the bedposts, but considering all the bedrooms had the same setup furniture-wise, that wasn't actually all that helpful.

Once they had the vent cover off, the two hawks slid out — Kate first — into the room and couldn't see anything in the way of personalization. But then, even the occupied rooms didn't have much of that. A book or two from Charles' library, maybe, or textbooks for Cassie or blueprints for Tony or drawings for Steve — but they didn't really _own_ anything that they could use to personalize their spaces.

"Well?" Clint asked, and Kate shushed him as she headed to the door to check where they were.

When she turned around, she was wearing a wide grin. "Close," she told him. "It looks like we're in Peter's room."

Clint let out a breath and shook his head at that. "Closest to the cafeteria on the right side of the hall," he said. "Must've taken one turn too soon."

"Yeah, but you can see the girls' rooms from here," Kate pointed out before she closed the door again and started to shoo Clint with both hands. "C'mon, let's get back in there and try again before Peter comes back from training and we have to explain to him why we're in his room."

"Actually…" Clint rubbed the back of his neck. "Might be better if we head outside now anyhow. I'm betting they get antsy when they can't spot you on the cameras for too long."

"Won't they notice if we don't come out of the same room we went into?"

"I think they just want to see that we're here. Just..." he said, brushing some webs and dust from her shoulder, "...make sure that you don't look like you just crawled out of a duct." He grinned. "I wear gray when I'm exploring. Doesn't show as much."

"Smart." She tapped the side of her nose with her finger and checked her shirt.

"But hey, no reason you can't go looking tonight after they lock us in," Clint pointed out. "I just figured I should show you they're not as secure as they think they are around here." He grinned impishly. "Who knows? Give it a bit, and you'll probably be able to find _anyone_ , anyplace."

She grinned and smacked him rather gently on the arm. "You're such an enabler."

"Don't I know it," he agreed fervently as the two of them left Peter's room and headed back toward the rec room for a very competitive game of pool.


	13. Seeing Red

**Notes: Thanks to anyone who's still sticking with us. We're slowly but surely building up the army (do you hear the people sing? :P) So without further ado, it's time to check on a whole lot of redheads...**

* * *

 **Chapter 13: "Seeing Red"**

* * *

 _September 27_

 _Essex Laboratories_

* * *

Clint waited with Charles while the security doors on the other side of the facility unlocked. A frown creased his brow when he saw all the armed guards — and it only deepened when they got further in and he saw that, unlike where he and the others were, it appeared the kids in this area were kept in cells, complete with bars on the doors.

He tried to look in on some of the others, but he only saw a glimpse of blue through one of the windows before their escort _firmly_ reminded Clint this was a need-to-know department. Natasha was here, and that was all he needed to know.

"She's not a criminal," Clint said, his tone biting as he walked a little closer to Charles. "Never has been. That was me. If you wanna throw someone in jail, it's me, not her."

"I don't want her in jail," Charles said calmly. "I want to get the Red Room out of her head. No controls. No coercion. I want her to think for herself and answer to whom she _chooses._ She can't work with us otherwise, and I think it's a waste of an incredible young mind to leave her here with Red Room programming controlling her thoughts."

"You bet your hair shaving kit it is," Clint said and Charles had to smile at that.

"Those a little over my head tried to keep her off the list because Red Room girls are so highly conditioned, so… difficult. But _I_ believe she can be helped… because of the connection she showed with you. It shows that she can trust outside of the Red Room. We just need to have her see that those _outside_ the Red Room are the better option."

"She's always been difficult," Clint admitted, though he sounded almost fond. "It's not just the Red Room, that's just… Nat."

Charles had to smile at the tone in Clint's voice. "Be that as it may, I still want to see her free from their control. Even if she doesn't choose to work with us."

"Me too," Clint agreed as they arrived at Natasha's cell. When the door opened with a little beep, she was standing against the far wall, though he recognized the brief look of surprise when she saw him with Charles, even if she tried to cover it up. "Hey, Tasha. Your new digs suck."

She glared at him for a moment and shook her head. "He told me you were alive," she said, gesturing to Charles. "I'm glad he wasn't lying about that."

Clint held his arms out and spun in a quick circle before he shot her a jaunty smile. "Yep. I'm here."

"And marching to Xavier's fife?" She lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Nat, since when have you known me to march to anyone else's music?" he shot back, and she almost couldn't help the smirk.

She regarded him for a long moment. "Pawn, then," she said at last. "You shouldn't let him use you like that. He wants to break unity and loyalty and replace it with his own plans."

"Nat, that's crap."

"You're an idiot, Clint Barton."

"And I always thought you were the smart one," he shot back.

She rolled her eyes at him and tossed Charles a look. "This isn't going to work, you know," she told him. "I'll figure out what you have on Clint and get him back on track and out of your influence."

Clint let out a breath. "Nat, I was never part of the Red Room."

"But you were our allies," Natasha said with a bit of heat as she turned toward him. "At least in Two, you understood where the power was."

"Yeah. And it was screwing people left and right," Clint shot back.

Natasha's glare only intensified as she took a step forward, her index finger leveled at him. "If you weren't so naive, you'd know—"

"What, that you're sticking up for the same people who tossed you into the Games and screwed with your head so bad you couldn't keep up in the arena?" Clint thrust his chin out. "That was them, Nat, not you. They said they were prepping you for the Games, but all they did was teach you how to smile and die."

"I've seen the tapes — I know what I did wrong. I can improve," Natasha barked back at him harshly.

"And go right back to them?" Clint shook his head. "C'mon, really? Same people who used you up to try and get themselves more power and prestige? You say I'm an idiot, but at least I knew enough to get outta SAFE. You're still blindly following 'em."

"SAFE was a shadow of the Red Room. A bunch of boys wrestling and calling it fighting," she sneered.

"Oh yeah, and it was real elegant what you did instead. Guys in charge teach you how to dress up and look pretty while you kill kids? C'mon, Nat. You're not in the Games anymore. You're not in the Capitol. What do you think you're doing? They ditched you and didn't care enough to prepare you for it when you got to the Games. Why the heck're you still following them when they abandoned you?"

"They haven't," Natasha insisted stubbornly. "And I haven't abandoned them. If you're smart, you'll make sure you're on the right side when it hits the fan and the new leadership shakes out."

"The right side? Really? The one that hasn't yet had a single victor in the Games?" Clint pointed out. "Real impressive record. I'm shaking in my boots."

"You _should_ be," she said, with a bit of fire in her gaze. "You should be, especially if you won't come willingly."

He stopped for a breath and then spoke more quietly. "You gonna make me, Nat?"

"If I don't, they will."

"Don't do me any favors," he replied, his brow furrowed.

"I shouldn't," she said. "I shouldn't give you a chance at all, but I will, Clint."

"That's what I'm trying to do for you," he said. "Because what they're offering you? It's not a chance."

"No, it's a certainty," she agreed.

"Certainty of continued slavery."

"Where some see a cage, it's only guard rails to keep the path."

Clint couldn't stop the snort at what he recognized was a practiced phrase. "Yeah, yeah. Nothing fishy about that at all. You ever think about how stupid that sounds?"

"It's an allegory of perspective."

"Wow. That sounds so much like something you would say. Like something you would think of all on your own." He shook his head bitterly. "And it's a stupid allegory."

"You're an idiot," she said, shaking her own head in response.

"But somehow not the dumbest one in the room with an attitude like _that._ "

"Please, Clint," she said as she softened her tone for a moment and seemed almost to reach out for him. "You don't want to do this the hard way."

He stared at her, surprised that she would even try to work around him this way. Then he shook his head, a wry grin on his face. "That's kinda the story of my life," he said calmly. "Isn't it?"

Her eyes flashed for a moment before she made a frustrated noise and waved her hand at him. "Fine. _Fine_. Then go with Xavier."

"I want you to come with me," he said earnestly. "Trust _me_ for a change."

She frowned at him for a long moment as she weighed him out, not only his words but the earnest expression and tone. "Not him," she said quietly, her words measured.

"No," he agreed. "Trust _me_. Worst case scenario — you can say 'I was right'."

"I'm always right," she said, poorly containing a little smirk.

"Not this time," he replied, matching her look, and feeling an incredible relief.

She considered him, long and hard. "Trust you on what — letting him into my head?"

"Trust me on getting out of the Red Room for once in your life. You're better than that. Better than them."

For another long moment, Natasha watched Clint, her arms crossed with one arm resting so that her hand was almost at the center of her chest. "I can't," she said softly, honestly.

"Sure you can. Come with me and pretend for them," he leaned against the wall with his hand resting behind his head, looking exceedingly calm and collected. Nat didn't miss his pose; there was something so annoyingly attractive about the boy. She pursed her lips and squinted at him.

"Pretend to be annoyed by this whole charade?" she asked, her smirk returning a bit against her will.

He saw her shifting slightly to his way of thinking and nodded. "Sure. Shouldn't be too hard."

She paused and seemed to think it over for a good long time. "I'll consider it — just _one_ chance."

He grinned and closed the gap between them before he scooped her up in a hug and all but crushed her to him. "Missed you, Nat," he whispered to her.

"Believe it or not, I missed you too," she said, trying hard to ignore the swell of warmth she felt as he held her.

* * *

 _October 2_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

It had taken a lot of careful watching and some strained Hawk-eyes, but Kate, with Clint's help, had figured out where the blind spots were on the cameras in the rec room. There weren't many blind spots at _all_ , but it helped that Clint 'accidentally' threw his pool cue across the room after a post-mission argument with his mission partner, and Wade 'ducked' — and Kate wasn't saying that was how they adjusted camera angles around here, but it was definitely part of the game.

She had pointed out these blind spots to Kurt, and they marked a few of them with things like rearranging the couches and readjusting the pool table just the slightest bit, that sort of thing.

So right now, all the cameras could see was that Kate and Kurt were sitting on the couch. But they could _not_ see the fact that Kate had her fingers laced through Kurt's as they were both halfway wrapped up in their books, the ones Charles had suggested anyone in the Tahiti program make their own. The place had a decent library, and Kate was really only pretending to read hers as she kept glancing over at Kurt's and half reading _Treasure Island_ over his shoulder. He was grinning like a loon through the whole thing, so it had to be more interesting than _A Separate Peace_ , which so far was boring.

"Clearly, you have picked better than me," Kate said at last as she abandoned pretending to read hers and just started actively batting his hand away from turning the page before she'd caught up to him.

"It's a pirate story," Kurt said as if this should have been supremely obvious to her. "Of course I picked better."

"Well, I stand corrected," she said with a little grin as she finally picked up her hand from the page and let him turn it.

"Actually, my mother used to tell me this story, but I've never read it," he admitted. "She didn't have the book, but she knew the storylines."

"And you totally pretended to be Jim Hawkins. I know you did," Kate said with a little sparkle in her eyes.

"Well," he said, matching her grin with his own. "Sometimes I was Long John Silver, and my little brother and sister were Jim and Ben."

She giggled and wrinkled her nose at that. "I just can't imagine you being the bad guy. At all. Ever."

"But he's the _pirate_ ," Kurt pointed out with the beginnings of an impish grin, and Kate had to laugh at that and very quickly leaned over to give him a little peck on the cheek.

"And you're such a pirate," she teased, blushing right down to the roots of her hair as Kurt turned a bit pink as well. The little stolen kisses were still very new and _exciting_ , especially because they were forbidden.

"Well…" The still-pink tinge at the edges of Kurt's ears turned a bit deeper. "If that's the case, maybe I should steal something," he said before he leaned over and kissed her back, slightly more than a peck this time as he pulled her closer to him with one hand at her chin.

"Both of you, my office — _now."_

The kiss broke in an instant, and both of them turned to see a severe-looking Essex in the doorway of the rec room as they both turned bright red for a whole different reason. There really wasn't any excuse or explanation they could give like when they usually tried to talk their way out of trouble, so this was just… bad. They suddenly couldn't look at each other for fear of making it worse as they clumsily got up off the couch and walked past the still glowering Essex.

He glared at the rest of the occupants of the rec room, knowing full well that they were all aiding and abetting, before he followed the two little lovebirds down the hall. Once they were sitting in the office, he took a seat across from them, obviously trying to control his temper, but not entirely succeeding.

"What do you two not understand about no fraternization?" Essex all but hissed out. "Do you not realize _why_ this policy is in place? Do I need to explain it to you?"

When both of them looked properly guilty for a moment, he continued. "Clearly, neither of you are mature enough to delve into _anything_ even resembling a relationship — and you need to keep your focus on your training and your missions."

"We're mature enough to _kill_ people for you guys," Kate grumbled, her eyes flashing.

"But not mature enough to be on the same team. Ever." Essex replied. "Which is more than just inconvenient for you — it's a setback for us. You _were_ scheduled to have a mission in the coming weeks, but I'm glad that this came up, since it would have been two weeks off base together. At least now we know you can't be trusted together — for _any_ period of time."

There was no mistaking the disappointed look on either of their faces as Kate tried to argue, "But we work together just _fine_!"

"But you can't be left alone," he countered.

"It's a stupid policy," Kate said, now clearly just mad at the loss of a potential two weeks with Kurt.

"If you're wrapped up in each other, then you're too busy to pay attention to your duty," he said with a tone of finality. "You'll have your new partner assignment tomorrow."

"What do you _think_ is gonna happen when you stick a whole bunch of teenagers in the same place, huh? This is just stupid," Kate said.

"Kate," Kurt said, trying to calm her, but she gave him a _look,_ and he didn't press. Besides, he didn't exactly want to argue Essex's side, either — he was just as disappointed.

"You may go now — unless I need to escort you back," Essex said with a glare.

"We can get back on our own," Kurt said with his chin thrust out as he steered Kate away from Essex to keep her from getting in even more trouble, although Kate was grumbling all the way down the hall once they were out.

"I had it," she said.

"No, you didn't," Kurt said, his hand on her shoulder as he let out a sigh. "But this was bound to happen, I think. Entirely my fault."

"Um, no. No it was not. I take full credit for kissing you first," she said with a little smile despite the situation they found themselves in.

"Half credit at best," Kurt argued, starting to smile as well.

"A 50-50 split would be fair," she said, her head tipped to the side as she pretended to consider it.

"It could be, but it's not," he replied with a smirk. "60-40, my advantage."

"Lies," Kate said. "Just filthy lies. I kissed you first."

"Nothing about me is filthy," he said, tipping his chin up a bit. "And not today you didn't. I stole the first kiss today."

She let out a breath and looked dramatically put out. "Fine. Your fault _today_." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and sighed. "Seriously, when can we just ... just go kill Thanos and be done with this? They're teaching us to kill people, right? So let's just be done, and then we can go get Logan and not have to deal with stupid doctors."

"I'm questioning this one's credentials," Kurt said, smirking a bit wider. "Clearly, he doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Yeah, we're even better together, you and me," she agreed, bumping his shoulder with hers as they headed back to the rec room to a group of kids armed with smirks and knowing looks.

* * *

 _October 3_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"Thank you for reassigning me," Clint said to Charles. "Really." He looked supremely relieved. "I don't even care what it is, or what we're doing ... just … thank you."

"You don't know who your reassignment is," Charles said as the two of them headed to his office.

"Yeah, but whoever it is, it isn't Wade," Clint pointed out. He and Wade had already run a few missions together, and while Clint had to admit that Wade was an excellent shot with a rifle, and good backup for the kind of assignments they got, he was getting tired of the exhausting job he'd been handed just putting up with Wade's antics in the field. "We're not brothers or twins, no matter what he says, and I'm not cut out to be a babysitter, so… thank you."

Charles just had to smile to himself. "Wait and see who your new partner is and then decide if you want to thank me," he said, though he was sure that both of the kids involved in this new team-up with be more than happy with the assignment.

When they got to the office, Kate was there waiting for them and Charles wasted no time in letting them in on the new arrangement. "Your new partner," he said to both of them.

"Hey, Katie!" Clint said with a grin, though he was a bit surprised when Kate didn't look nearly so enthusiastic.

"Ok, so it's not _horrible_ ," Kate said with a sigh, and Clint put a hand over his heart and looked insulted.

"Hey, that's not nice to say to your new partner."

"Yes, you should be more gentle with your trainee," Charles said before he looked up at Clint. "She is the senior member of your team, I'm afraid."

"She _what_?" Clint looked abashed as Kate broke into a wide grin, clearly enjoying the change much more now.

"You heard him," she said, an impish light dawning in her eyes.

"Kate has been running missions far longer than you have — at least for us. She knows all of our protocols and will teach them to you when you go on your first mission together," Charles explained. "It's an extended mission, so we needed to be sure that it would be with a pair that would get along — but not _too_ well. Seeing as Kate was a bit indiscreet yesterday," he added, glancing her way with one eyebrow raised.

"It _would've_ been a two-week mission with Kurt," Kate said sulkily, and Clint nodded his understanding with a little 'oooh'.

"And it was very nearly a two-week mission with Peter, but Essex, it seems … thinks that any of your old alliance could be problematic," Charles said, looking irritated at the insinuation as Kate just stared at him.

"That… is just wrong," Kate said, shaking her head.

"Well, you're aware of how they are presenting it," Charles said. He wasn't thrilled with the subject; that much was clear to tell. But it didn't do much to soften the frustration Kate was clearly building, either.

"Yeah, Kurt told me about the stupid interviews," Kate said with a glare. "So, what, he thinks I wanted to… with _all_ of them…?"

Charles shook his head. "I don't think he honestly believes it. I believe it's an excuse to keep you from your strongest allies."

"But Clint's okay?" Kate raised an eyebrow.

"Clint has strong ties to his old district partner," Charles explained. "And Essex wants Natasha to pull Mr. Barton into his line of thinking. He seems to think Natasha has more sway over Clint's actions than you do, Kate," he added, this time with just the slightest hint of a smirk at the very idea.

"Yeah, I get the regular recruitment pitch," Clint said with a grimace that had some amusement behind it. "It's nice to know she still cares."

Charles nodded at that and then cleared his throat. "Well, at least this mission promises fresh air, something I think you both sorely need."

"Good, 'cause so far I've only gone on a few missions between sessions with you and Nat, and cramped spaces with Wade are _not_ fun." Clint made a face at that.

"There is nothing about this assignment that is cramped," Charles promised.

"Except my style," Kate said, causing Clint to snort and give her a high five.

"Possibly. You'll be watching out for a few nasty characters," Charles said, though he was unable to stop to smile at their antics with each other. "Agent Coulson will give you the full break down. But the mission will run at least ten days — closer to two weeks before it's considered a bust. And you'll be in the mountains. So you'll both need to brush up on long range sniper skills in the next few weeks before the assignment."

"Which mountains?" both Hawkeyes asked at once.

"The Rockies — the northern end of them," Charles said. "It's a very remote area."

Clint and Kate both glanced at each other, a little disappointed. Clint had grown up in the desert mountains, and Kate in the Appalachians, so they had been hoping for something familiar, but… They both shrugged.

"Sounds like we should hit the shooting range, oh sidekick mine," Kate said with a smug grin.

"Not your sidekick," Clint grumbled.

"Mmhmm." She draped an arm over his shoulders. "C'mon. We'll get you a cute catchphrase and an outfit to match mine on the way down."

* * *

 _October 7_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

For the past few days, there had been a lot of excitement in the labs, though of course, none of the Tahiti kids were allowed to know _why_ , and all Cassie could get out of Hank _or_ Jan was that this had been the toughest reanimation case yet — and they were hopeful they could pull off _two_ miracles. But they were tight-lipped about it otherwise.

Though… Tony had some idea. That much was clear from the fact that he was sort of pale and kept nervously fiddling with pieces of his projects when he wasn't in the labs or down in the workshop that he'd more or less turned into his own personal playground. But when anyone asked him, he would just say that he didn't want to guess, in case he was wrong.

But finally, the kids saw the medics doing their usual push into the Tahiti med bay to transport whoever it was so they'd wake up in the same area as the rest of them, and their interests were even more piqued when Charles asked for Sin and Tony, of all people, to accompany him when he went to do the introductions.

"Really? Us?" Tony asked with a frown. "Why …. Why us? Isn't Little Miss Cassie the welcoming committee?"

"Cassie volunteers if there is no one in the program more suited to do the welcome," Charles said patiently. "But you two fit the part nicely."

"He's just scared to be stuck alone with me while you're in there with the new kid," Sin said with a little smirk.

"Yeah, no … seeing as you don't have handcuffs — and if you did I might take you up on it just to see what shade of red you'd turn — I'm not worried."

She stuck her chin up at him and scrunched her nose before she pointedly shoved past him to follow Charles. "Whatever."

"That's what I thought … run away."

She spun to face him and stick a finger in her face. "Don't make me embarrass you in front of everyone when we're supposed to be laying out the welcome mat."

"You can try, sweetie," he replied. "But if _we're_ the welcome wagon — I can only guess who it is we're going to see."

She rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue at him as they headed down to the med bay — where there was, in fact, a new occupant in the usual spot. The little freckled redhead was sleeping soundly, and there was no sign of the fact that she'd had both of her arms reattached as she shifted, shrugging a bit in her sleep as she started to regain consciousness.

Tony stared at her, suddenly torn as to what to do. "I don't know that I should be here," Tony said softly. "She wanted me dead. How would that be a good welcome?"

"I wouldn't call you in unless I thought both of you were able to handle it," Charles assured him. "But we do need to assess how well she'll work with you — or if we need to take measures to keep you separated until she can adjust properly."

"I don't know if there is an 'adjust' for this," Tony all but whispered out, still without removing his gaze from Pepper in the other room as he took a slight step back. "She hates me — and she's got good reason to."

"It's my hope that you two can come to an understanding," Charles said, matching Tony's soft tone as they watched Pepper coming out of it, slow and sluggish. "It will probably help for her to hear that you know, and that you acknowledge why she has such strong feelings. But we'll get to that later."

"Yeah, psycho-babble after we get Pepper back," Sin agreed, looking not nearly as nervous as Tony and actually a bit excited to have someone that she _hadn't_ tried to kill during the Games around.

Tony, however, leaned tensely against the wall with his arms crossed, his dark eyes focused on the girl in the bed, his brows furrowed.

But they weren't able to discuss the point further as Pepper started to wake up in earnest, and the second she was even partway conscious, it was obvious she was panicking. The monitors for her heart rate and other vital signs started to scream mechanical anguish, and the adrenaline obviously helped Pepper get her motor functions back faster as she started to _thrash_.

Charles made his way to her quickly, trying to talk her down from the violent reaction, hoping the sound of his voice would help her to latch on to something that would draw her through it.

For Pepper, it was reassuring to have a soothing voice promising her safety, since the last thing she remembered was Cletus Kasady… No, the last thing she remembered was her parents. It was all hazy, but there was definitely a crazed, cackling psychopath in there, and her parents, and... Tony.

"Tony!" she shouted as soon as her eyes flew open. She was breathing hard, clearly still panicked, trying desperately to tell him something.

"Miss Potts," Charles said, still urging her calm, her voice measured and even — though there was a way to call for help from the medics if he needed it. "Please, try to relax, you're safe. And whole. And no one is going to harm you."

Pepper took a deep, shuddering breath as she tried to do just that, the brightness of the room and the unfamiliarity of it throwing her off balance as she gasped, "Where … where am I? Where's Tony?"

"He's here. He's safe," Charles told her. "And I need you to calm down."

"I have to find him," she said, still gasping shallow breaths, her hands gripping the edge of the blankets. "He doesn't know — I have to tell him what I did."

Xavier was slightly startled. "What did you do?" he asked, softly.

At that, Pepper just covered her face with her hands and began to sob. "I tried to kill him," she choked out through the palms covering her mouth.

Charles spoke firmly. "Nothing you did led to his death."

"Yes, it did," she insisted, her chest still heaving. "I put his name in for the Games. I took out tesserae for him. It's _my fault_ he was in the Games in the first place!"

Charles let out a sigh. _He_ knew, of course, that it hadn't been her actions that had propelled Tony into the Games, but that was not common knowledge, nor was it something that would help her in the moment. But before he could decide the best course of action, Tony stepped into the room. "Yeah. I … wasn't going to wait for permission," he said as he stopped and stood there, looking down at her. "Hey, Pep. I couldn't wait another five minutes without you."

Pepper _stared_ at him, momentarily shocked out of her tears, before she let out a little gasp and started to laugh through the sobbing, the sound of it almost disbelieving. "You're here," she said.

"He _did_ say that. Like… two minutes ago. You weren't listening. Apparently."

For a moment, her eyes widened. "You heard?" she asked, and her every muscle stilled as she watched him.

He hedged and shrugged one shoulder up to his ear for an instant. "Well, I was waiting for my cue." He took a deep breath, and it seemed he had to force himself to meet her gaze. "But ... I know _why_ you did it. And I deserved it. All of it."

"No, no you didn't," she insisted, shaking her head. "It was an accident. You didn't mean to… And I meant to kill you, Tony. That _wasn't_ an accident, and—"

"Doesn't matter. Still my fault."

At that, Pepper let out another gasp and started to cry again in earnest, mumbling apologies the whole time.

Tony pulled his hands from his pockets and swept over to her, sitting down on the bed and pulling her into a tight hug. Her face was buried in his neck as he shushed her, telling her it was fine. That it was over. It took some time, but when she finally started to settle down a bit and relax, Tony let out a deep breath. "You … you ah, you have another visitor."

"I do?" She looked up at Tony and hastily tried to wipe at her face. "Why didn't you tell — they've been watching this whole…"

"It was kinda hard to get a word in … and I wouldn't … well. Probably not?" he said with a little wince. "Short attention span … you know."

"Yeah, I do," she said with a little muted smirk as Sin pushed her way through the door to say hello.

"Good to see you up," Sin said with a smirk as she waved.

Pepper stared at Sin for a moment in disbelief. "I thought you were going to win!" she blurted out.

"Yeah, so did I," Sin said with a dry chuckle before she just shook her head and slipped over to sit on the edge of Pepper's bed, half pushing Tony to get him to make the space for her there. "So," she said. "Stark here probably can't give you a tour worth anything. Spends all his time in the labs."

Pepper had to laugh at that. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

Sin smirked. "Yeah, well, it means I'm picking up his slack," she said. "So — you coming for the tour, or am I going to have to carry you?"

Pepper couldn't help but laugh as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed — and Tony very gingerly helped her to her feet. "I'll follow you," she told Sin.

* * *

 _October 10_

 _Tahiti Training Room_

* * *

"No way," Kate insisted, both hands on her hips as Clint just grinned crookedly at her.

"Way," he told her. He didn't sound concerned in the least as he casually twirled an arrow between the fingers of one hand before he nocked it and aimed for the target further down the range.

"No," Kate said again. She was leaned against the wall, their training long over. They both knew that they worked well together as partners, so most of their "training" together consisted of goofing off and making trick shots. But this was the most unbelievable one Clint had ever proposed. "You can't make the Robin Hood shot. It's impossible."

"Says you," Clint said, still with that crooked smile. He fired off the arrow, and of course, it hit the dead center of the target. He nodded once and then reached for another one.

"Says physics," she returned.

He raised a single eyebrow her way and spared her a short glance before he fired off his arrow anyway — and it went straight through the first one, splitting it right down the middle.

Kate stared at the target openly, her lips slightly parted as Clint continued on with pretending he wasn't smug about the whole thing, sauntering down the range to go retrieve both arrows, as if Kate needed further proof to know that the shot was good.

"You miss every single one of the shots you don't take, Katie Kate," he told her as he tapped the top of her head with the end of the split arrow.

She waved the arrow away and tried to fix him with a glare, but he was grinning too wide for it to stick. "That include the ones you don't take with arrows?" she had to tease him — beating him to the punch, because he looked like he was going to say something corny like that.

"Ex-actly," he said, pointing her way with the arrows still in hand, and she just smirked at him that much wider.

"In case you haven't noticed, that's what got you stuck being my sidekick, mister," she pointed out.

"Not your sidekick."

"Uh-huh." She twirled an arrow in her own hand the way he'd done before. "What did Charles say, _trainee_ of mine?"

"You," Clint said, pointing at her with his index finger, "are abusing your power."

"Can't help it — you make it too easy," she shot back as she lined up her next shot, took in her breath… and let it fly.

Perfect shot. Right in the center.

She grinned to herself as Clint took up the spot she had taken earlier leaned against the wall. "You weren't wrong to take the shot with Kurt — you two're good together, Katie," Clint said seriously, and Kate paused in stringing her next arrow to look his way with one eyebrow raised.

"... thanks?"

He shrugged lightly. "Not your fault the creepy doc is a joykill," he said. "And hey — I call 'em like I see 'em."

"Yeah?" She shook her head at him for a moment as she lined up her shot. If he could do the Robin Hood shot, then so could she. Right?

"Why do you think I showed you the vents, oh _sidekick_ of mine?"

She glared but didn't turn his way. "Not your sidekick."

"You were singing a different tune a few minutes ago."

She rolled her eyes. "I hate you sometimes, you know that?"

He just chuckled. "You really, really don't," he replied.

She let out a breath of frustration at the same moment she let her arrow fly — and while it was certainly on the right trajectory, somehow, she didn't get the Robin Hood shot. She narrowed her eyes at the target and strung another arrow.

"C'mon, Katie—"

"Clint," she cut in, her eyes narrowed. "Just… shut up for a second, alright?"

He shrugged openly, but he didn't say anything else as he waited for her.

She turned her attention back to the target. Let the tension out of her shoulders. Breathe… then release.

Clint grinned along with Kate as the arrow split down the middle. "Nice shot, Katie Kate."

* * *

 _October 17_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Jan was humming to herself that morning, in a fine mood as she brushed out her hair and checked her reflection a few times before she headed down to breakfast. Hank had already gone down to the lab that morning without waking her — he was an early riser — but he'd _promised_ he would be done by noon today, and then the rest of the day was _theirs._

 _And_ Jan had the backing of the other doctors. Claire and Cecilia had both promised that they would bodily remove Hank if they had to if he got too wrapped up in his work and tried to weasel out of the day. After all, a wedding anniversary only came around once a year, and they all agreed — it was more important than anything he could be doing in the lab.

Most of his work was already done anyway, with only one Tahiti operative left to wake up - and that was down to the medical doctors.

So he really didn't have any excuse _not_ to spend the whole day with Jan, and they both knew it.

That was what had her in such a good mood as she practically skipped down the hall from the residential area to the cafeteria, and the other Tahiti kids noticed, of course. Especially the ones who hadn't been in the program long enough to know what today was.

"You're in a good mood," Carol observed when Jan sat down with her coffee and buttermilk pancakes.

"Wedding anniversary," Jan said brightly, only grinning more when she saw that she had the attention of more of the kids with that particular revelation.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask about that," Kate said, suddenly sounding much more awake than she had been moments before — staring blankly into her coffee as she very slowly woke up — the usual morning routine for both Hawkeyes, actually. "I mean — you and Hank… doesn't that totally break, like, a _whole_ bunch of rules?"

Jan waved her hand at that. "Those stupid rules didn't exist four years ago when we got married," she explained.

"And then, suddenly, they did," Cassie supplied. She'd heard the story before and was grinning widely at the chance to hear it again.

"Apparently, some people thought it was too _distracting_ to have a wedding and a married couple and all the logistics of moving the paperwork through and making the living arrangements…" Jan shrugged up one shoulder to her ear. " _I_ didn't think it was that horrible."

"Well, of course you wouldn't. You were the one getting married," Kate pointed out, watching Jan for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes before she leveled her index finger at her. "And now — _you're_ the reason for all the stupid rules around here!"

"Guilty as charged," Jan said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

"So rude," Kate said, shaking her head.

"Hey, I'm not going to apologize for doing what makes me happy," Jan said with a little grin as she leaned forward to tell her tale. "It was all very romantic — a lot of post-resurrection relief at seeing each other again, a lot of kissing." She looked Kate's way with a significant sort of raised-eyebrow look. "Not that anyone here has done anything like that."

"Oh, not at all," Kate agreed with a little smirk. "That would be against the rules."

Jan just laughed at that as some of the other kids made their way over to join the conversation — even the kids who weren't pining over the fact that they couldn't date who they wanted to were interested in the story of how the rules got started, though it was Kurt who said, with a small smile, "What was the wedding like?"

Jan turned to him with a barely restrained smile. "Actually, it was pretty … not exciting. It's not like we could invite that many people to it — and Hank still owes me a honeymoon. We couldn't exactly just run off somewhere when we're still technically dead," she said, her eyes twinkling. "I told him when this whole thing gets settled, when the revolution's over and the Tahiti secret is out, he _is_ going to take me out somewhere nice. We'll probably do a vow renewal ceremony, just so we can have something a little bigger than just signing paperwork and making the argument to SHIELD to let it go through."

"Well, the marriage is more important than the wedding," Kurt said with a little smile.

"True that," Jan agreed, though she didn't quite mean it, and that much was obvious as she immediately let out a long sigh. "Would have been nice, though."

"Then that's first up when we overthrow the Capitol," Cassie said, her tone decisive as she nodded to herself. "We'll make sure you get the big party you deserve."

"We'll all come," Kate agreed.

"We'll make Coulson give you away," Peter suggested with a grin that kept growing the more he thought about it. "He'll probably cry."

"Any preferences on colors?" Carol asked interestedly.

"I've always been a fan of yellow," Jan said with a crooked grin. "It's so bright and warm…"

"Then it'll have to be in the springtime," Cassie decided.

"Oh, I don't know," Jan said thoughtfully. "Autumn back home was always spectacular with all the trees turning colors…."

"But warm yellows are totally a spring thing," Cassie argued.

"If you do something a little deeper, though…. Yellows and browns — that would be good for autumn," Kate broke in and then, seeming to feel the need to justify herself, added, "My sister loved that kind of thing. She probably would have been a stylist if she'd been born in the Capitol."

"Then maybe I'll ask her to do my dress," Jan said with a little smile.

"She would _die_ of happiness," Kate told her.

"Then that will have to happen," Jan decided. "The first anniversary we have after this whole revolution gets going."

"Then we have a date to shoot for," Kurt said with a decisive nod.

"Oh, I doubt it'll happen next year," Jan told him honestly. "It's already been four years…"

"We'll just see about that," Kurt said in a tone that brokered no argument, and at his stubborn insistence, Jan couldn't help but smile, reach over, and give him a one-armed hug.

"Whatever you say, Kurt," she said.


	14. It's Not Easy Being Green

**Notes: All praise to Miran Anders for this amazing chapter! She does the best Bruce Banner of all time and we love her for it :D**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: It's Not Easy Being Green**

* * *

 _October 20_

 _Somewhere Underneath SHIELD_

* * *

 _The young man slept uncomfortably. It was deadly silent, except for a low-pitched hum in his ears that shifted slowly up the scale and grew exponentially louder._

Almost as if someone was doing a sound check on his hearing.

 _When it abruptly went supersonic, he cried out, and felt himself sinking back into a misty, vague unconsciousness._

 _This time, all he heard was a soft sigh._

 _He opened his eyes, squinting even in the dim light, and blinked several times at the figure sitting next to the bed, holding his hand softly._

 _The bed._

 _Like an old, fond memory, it was a familiar bed, soft and comfortable. The quilt that covered him was patterned with stars and planets in glowing shades of blue. His mother had made it, saving and trading for scraps of fabrics in stellar patterns. His hand brushed over it, and he frowned._

 _"This can't be here…" The quilt didn't exist anymore. He knew this. His father had used it to clean up a mess he made in a drunken fit and threw it out afterwards. The young man felt his fists clenching._

 _"It's alright, sweetheart. It's alright."_

 _His eyes widened as he looked at the woman sitting there, smiling gently at him. For a moment, he felt as if he couldn't breathe or speak. When he finally did, it was in the soft voice of an eight-year-old boy._

 _"…Mom?"_

 _Her smile broadened and she leaned over to hug him. "It's so good to see you, sweetheart. Even for a little while."_

 _"Mom? But… how? And wait, what? Why only a little while? I'm finally done!"_

 _She smiled at him, more sadly now. "Done? No, dearheart, you were done too soon. You get a chance to live your life."_

 _"Live my life? I don't want–"_

 _"It'll be alright–"_

Abruptly, the sound squealed in his hearing once more, and he slapped his hands over his ears, trying to block it out. "No!" His eyes opened into a bright white light, and he screamed.

Voices yelled to each other. "Not yet." "Put him back under!" "I don't know if we're doing him a favor or…"

The sounds faded once more.

 _Only when he was sure the soft fabric beneath his hands was his childhood quilt did he dare open his eyes again. His mother still sat beside the bed, tears in her eyes._

 _"Mom? Are you okay?"_

 _She nearly laughed. "I'm fine, sweetheart. But you need to go back. You can't fight them forever."_

 _"Like hell I can't."_

 _"No, darling. You have to go back. You have a life to finish. Please."_

 _He stared into her eyes, so like his own. "But… damn, it's been so hard." He looked down, almost ashamed. "I'm angry. I'm angry at dad, I'm angry at the way the world works, I'm angry at myself." He looked up at her again. "I'm angry all the time."_

 _She took a deep breath and nodded. "That comes with these," she said, pointing to his chest. "These bodies, they have emotions that can overwhelm us. But it's all in the body. The chemicals, the way it works. That's why we have this." She pointed to his head and tapped his forehead with a grin. "You can feel anything you want, anytime you want. But you have the power to decide what to do with your feelings. With anger. Or with love. Or with fear. You always have a choice."_

 _Her fingers went from pointing to running through his tousled curls. "You've grown up so handsome! And I'll see you again. But not until you've had your time."_

 _He looked up at her and heard the screech start again, more softly this time. "I'll try. I really will. I promise."_

 _"I know you will."_

 _The sound grew louder, and he took several deep breaths as he squinted against it. "I love you, Mom."_

 _She held his hand more tightly. "I love you, Bruce. Be good, sweetheart."_

This time the squeal ended abruptly, and he felt his body jerk unsteadily. He heard voices again.

"Anything?"

"The scans say he's conscious."

"Yeah, but–"

"Gentlemen. Perhaps a bit more quiet…"

Bruce opened his eyes slowly. His head tilted toward the side of the bed where his mother had been in some other where, and when he saw she was gone, his eyes began to water.

"Xavier, listen, I think he's –"

"Yes, I can see that. Leave us, please. And bring the lights to sixty percent."

The body he was in felt strange, sluggish, and it was only in retrospect that he realized how light and airy he felt with his mother. He closed his eyes once more and tried to remember her. His mind seemed to accept the visit — whether he was the one visiting or she was, he couldn't quite pin down — more easily than it could accept this body. He tried moving his fingers, and they did as he asked… but they seemed to be working through a bad circuit.

Then he remembered how he _died_.

He sat up suddenly, and his hand went to his thigh without his brain trying to guide it, finding the spot where he had been stabbed with a sharpened blade of rebar, where his life had bled out. _Logan. The rain. The storm._ His breathing became faster, and he heard a soft voice.

"It's alright, Mr. Banner. As you can see, you're quite alive."

Taking a deep breath, Bruce looked over at the man in the wheelchair and frowned before he placed him. "Xavier? …What… What's going on?" His voice felt and sounded like he hadn't spoken in a month, raspy and dry. He coughed and reached for the glass of water on the nightstand by the bed. He took a small sip before setting it down again. His stomach appeared to be less settled than his brain, which didn't say much. He took a few breaths and blinked, glancing back to the man in the chair.

For a long moment, the younger man felt like he was being studied, as sapphire-bright eyes seemed to look straight through him. Then, with an almost imperceptible nod, the man responded. "Hello, Mr. Banner." Bruce squinted at him.

"' _Mr. Banner_ '? Does that mean I'm supposed to call you ' _Professor_ '?"

"That is your prerogative. Although I'm fine with 'Charles', if you're more comfortable with that."

Nodding vaguely, Bruce looked around the room and then lay down again, slowly. It seemed to be a cross between a lab and a hospital room. Several machines were beeping quietly as they measured something about him… and now that he noticed, there were several leads attached to his head and chest.

"I was dead." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. Charles raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Clearly the boy was capable of making logical deductions and was processing his new reality more calmly — and indeed, more _acutely_ — than they had imagined.

"How."

Xavier frowned, surprised. "How did you die?"

"No, _that_ I remember." He closed his eyes and thought about it again, saw the rain, the blood, felt the… felt… His eyes opened quickly. "I can't feel it."

The man in the chair nearly chuckled. "Well, I should hope not."

"No. I can't feel the anger. The fear. I can't feel—" His eyes widened. "I saw her. I saw her then. Right before — right as—" He rubbed his hands over his face and then turned to look into the blue eyes once more. "Right after I thought I saw my father."

Charles paused a moment, then nodded. "At some point — not now — we may want to study your reactions during your fight with Logan. Right now, however, it may be best just to say that you had a stress-related response to the fight, and—"

"Stress-related my ass. I had… I had a psychotic break. I thought my father… I thought _Logan_ was my father. I wanted to kill him." His pulse surged a bit, but it was true. He knew it was true.

Charles tipped his head again, surprised. "Yes." After a few moments of loaded silence, he went on. "But we believe you are stable now. Mentally and emotionally."

"Oh, you believe that, do you?" The boy laughed quietly. "Then I would suggest you don't get me angry."

"There are ways of dealing with anger, Bruce. You have a choice."

All the color abruptly drained from Banner's face. " _What_ did you say?"

"I said, there are—"

"My mother said that. My mother. When I was dead. I was with her."

Charles smiled warmly, curious. "Really? I'd love to hear—"

"Shut up. Did you plant some memory of her? Of me talking to her? Was that supposed to make me believe everything you say? How did you know about the quilt? How did—"

The machinery began beeping a bit more insistently, and Charles glanced at it. Two men appeared at the door, but he waved them off.

"I assure you — I _promise_ you. We didn't give you any false memories. We don't have the technology. We can deaden a memory, make it less painful… but we can't add our own version."

Bruce slowed his breathing, his eyes glinting in the dim light as he calmed himself. "Yet?"

The professor exhaled a laugh as the machines quieted again. "Yes, I suppose 'yet' is appropriate. But it would be an ethical nightmare."

"And killing people just to bring them back to life isn't? And for what? What the hell does the Capitol think—"

"The Capitol isn't part of this." The chair wheeled closer to the bed, and the man leaned in to speak with quiet intensity. "This is a rebellion, Mr. Banner. Our nation has reached the breaking point. We're trying to save all those that we think can help."

"A breaking point." Bruce nodded thoughtfully, his features hardening. "So the nation is ready for a psychotic break as well. And you want me to be part of it?"

Charles sat for a long moment, watching the younger man thoughtfully. "An interesting deduction. But not the case. We are trying to save the best and brightest, the ones who can help bring a new era to Marvel."

"Nice that they — that _we_ don't have a choice in the matter. Kind of like how we didn't have a choice about being reaped." His brow furrowed. "How many of...us…"

At least this was a question the professor had anticipated. "There are several of your 'classmates' who have been revived. There are a few others who were revived in the past. You are part of an elite group."

"Elite. Right." Bruce looked off in annoyance, then back in curiosity. "So… is Sin one of the select?"

"Your district partner? As a matter of fact, yes. Although there was some discussion about the suitability—"

"Suitability?" Brown eyes flared in shock. "You pick and choose _who_ you'll bring back to life? Playing the God hand pretty heavily, aren't you, considering you're distancing yourself from the monsters in the Capitol?"

The man shook his head and looked off in the distance. "Bruce… perhaps you would like to take a walk?"

Bruce managed a laugh. "Way to change the subject, _Charles_." With a surprisingly smooth movement, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled the sticky leads from his head and chest. The machinery responded with scientific panic. Looking over at them, Bruce frowned briefly as he studied the devices, then pushed assorted buttons and switches until they were all silent. He heard a chuckle and looked back at Charles. "What?"

"You're moving much better."

"As long as I don't think about it. Kinetic memory seems to be intact. The voluntary connections to the brain will probably take a little more time to smooth out, especially if you were regenerating neurons…" The man sitting stared for a moment longer than necessary.

"Mr. Banner — I think you will be an amazing addition to our crew."

"Yeah, great. What if I don't want to be part of this amazing crew?"

Charles smiled warmly. "And why, Bruce, wouldn't you want to defeat Thanos? To bring peace and equality back to Marvel?"

For a long moment Bruce stared at , he carefully slipped off the side of his bed and nodded toward the door. "Is there anything I can wear out there? Or are we 'resurrected' tributes all walking around au natural?"

The man looked at the floor, clearly trying not to laugh. "There are some comfortable clothing choices there." He pointed to a bench that held folded tee shirts, sweatpants, and several versions of underwear. "Of course, if you'd rather be _au natural_ , as you so blithely put it, feel free."

Bruce shrugged and nodded before walking to the bench. He was a little dizzy, and his legs felt a bit weak, but he sat down on the bench and began to put things on to cover the unusual sensations. Besides, he felt chilly. _I guess dying will do that to a body._ He stood to tuck in his shirt and almost chuckled when he saw his glasses sitting on the bench as well.

Picking them up, he looked at them thoughtfully. He put them on, looked around, took them off, and put them on again. Looking over the top of the frames at Xavier, he pursed his lips briefly. "So, Charles. Why do I still have these?"

The man shrugged, not breaking eye contact. "Because you seem to be comfortable with them. The prescription is so minute that you barely needed them before. I think putting them on simply allows you to focus more closely, mentally and emotionally more so than physically." They stared at each other for a bit, with a distinctly stubborn although shared expression. Finally, Charles shook his head. "Come now, Bruce. Surely you can admit you hide behind your glasses because it makes others more comfortable with your mental superiority if you have an obvious physical defect…"

There was a deafening little silence.

Bruce took the glasses off and turned them in his hands before hanging them on the neck of his shirt. "Right. And so… that brings up another thing, doesn't it, Charles."

The older man frowned lightly. "Such as?"

"Such as," he said, stepping back to the bed and leaning against it. "If you want me to trust you, trust what is going on here… why are you lying to me?"

Charles' head pulled back a bit, and he frowned in confusion. "I haven't lied to you, Mr. Banner. I assure you, everything I've said is absolutely—"

Bruce's eyes had gone cold, the brown carrying some ice in its gaze. "You aren't lying by talking. And I'm quite sure you know what I mean. Do I have to spell it out?"

Xavier blinked once or twice, then began to turn his chair toward the door. "Perhaps in time, you'll believe me—"

Bruce grabbed the arms of the chair and spun it roughly back to face him. He leaned over and hissed in the older man's face. "If you can bring the dead back to life — if you can heal any injury..." His voice was a bare whisper. "Then why, good sir, are you still sitting in that chair?"

Blue eyes met brown and fought like the sea beating against a rocky shore. The sea might win eventually, but it could take millennia. When Charles spoke, it was a controlled, explosive command. "Back away, Mr. Banner."

Bruce squinted at the man and stood up. He took a step backwards, but only one. "I'm waiting for an answer, Xavier."

"And I'm giving you one."

Charles took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he stared into Bruce's eyes and stood up. Bruce backed up another step, startled, and Charles stepped forward to close the distance between them. His voice was a sharpened, well-articulated whisper.

"The Capitol can know _nothing_ of this. If they did, they would find out everything. I am seen too often, needed by the Capitol too often. So yes, I have the use of my legs, but I cannot actually use them. Not _yet_. Not until the rebellion succeeds." He took a breath, and Bruce saw he was trembling, though whether from the exertion or from passion, it was difficult to tell. In any case, the man stepped back and sat carefully in his chair once more. "If you feel like you're trapped, Mr. Banner, all I can say is you're not the only one."

Bruce stared at him for a long moment. Then, he nodded slowly. "So… that chair."

"Yes?"

"It's your pair of glasses."

They watched each other, warily, until Charles exhaled a thin laugh. "Yes. I suppose it is. And the Capitol definitely needs to feel superior. Otherwise, they might think I'm dangerous."

"Which you certainly are." Bruce looked at him thoughtfully and extended his hand. "Thank you. For the truth. And for trusting me with this."

Charles exhaled and took the proffered hand, shaking it firmly. "You're welcome. And please, bear in mind that you're one of four — well, five, now — living people who know this. It isn't necessary for anyone else to find out. Nor would it be prudent."

Bruce nodded. He considered the specification of _living_ people. "I can see that. It must be... hard for you."

Charles gave him a clear-eyed gaze. "There are many, many sacrifices being made. We must make sure they're worth it."

There was a long pause as Bruce settled out his thoughts. "So… they were doing this way back when you were a tribute?"

A chuckle shook Charles' shoulders. "You make me sound even older than I am. No, they were not. As a victor, I was introduced to several incredibly brilliant scientists and doctors, who hoped to heal my spinal injuries… they were not approved of by the powers that be, because I was such a _brave_ little example of victory." A brief but stinging memory tightened his features. "But a small group was determined to help me, nonetheless." He took a breath, his eyes distant. "They started what we now call the Tahiti program. I can never thank them enough for what they did for me."

His gaze grew thoughtful. "The first head of the project was Dr. Iteyak. A complicated man, but he started something that was clearly important. The Capitol found him to be … dangerous. They felt he was power hungry, and subsequently, he vanished. Simply… disappeared." Charles shook his head sadly. "Luckily, his son Hishe was even more brilliant, and technology had advanced considerably. He was the one who followed through, saw the process to its logical conclusion." He looked Bruce in the eye. "My healing was merely a secondary development of the Tahiti program. And even Tahiti can't heal _every_ injury. But we learn more every day."

Bruce stared at him. "But… you can't use what they gave you. You don't use them enough, muscles atrophy. Your legs must be weak."

"Yes. But someday, Mr. Banner…"

"Yes." There was something surprisingly determined in Banner's voice as he echoed the statement. "Someday, Professor."

* * *

When they entered the cafeteria, Bruce was wearing his glasses again, and Charles rolled in his wheelchair. "I'm sure you're hungry, Mr. Banner, even if your body isn't sure what it feels yet. As you can see, there's plenty of food here."

And indeed there was. Tables along one wall of the room held what looked like a five-star restaurant brunch buffet. Bowls of fruit, stacks of waffles, and an almost obscene heap of bacon. Bruce wore a thoughtful expression and was clearly distracted… until he saw Tony Stark.

"What the — _damn_ it. You brought _him_ back?" His heart leapt in a strange confluence of emotions when he saw the boy he had kept alive for so long, the one whom he had called a friend. As his gaze scanned the room, he saw a glimpse of red hair, and suddenly, his anger peaked.

Striding toward his former ally, Bruce felt his heart beating hard. Stark turned and saw him coming.

"Hey, big guy. We were wondering when you'd—"

He was cut off short by a swift punch to the jaw. Bruce shook out his hand and stepped forward to stand over the fallen boy, grabbing him by the collar and pulling his fist back to strike again.

"Hey, Banner! Let him go. Come on, this is—" Steve had to step back when Bruce growled through clenched teeth at him.

"Get. Away."

Steve put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Look. You don't understa—"

Without looking away from Tony, Bruce shot his hand out sideways, catching Steve square in the chest and throwing him several feet backwards. Several tributes whooped as the blond hit a table, upending a bowl and landing on the floor with his head in what quickly became a mound of mashed strawberries.

"I said—"

"Mr. Banner."

Something about Xavier's voice made Bruce freeze. He looked up and saw only clear sapphire eyes. No condemnation, no judgement. Charles was waiting. That moment was enough for Bruce to get hold of his emotions and drop Stark back to the floor. "He _raped_ her. Tortured her. Why would you bring him back?"

Tony lifted himself up on his elbows and stared. "I did _what_? To _who_?" He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head. "Don't tell me _you_ got a doctored video too."

"Sin! I saw the... I saw…" Bruce's voice ran down, and he turned to look where Sin was sitting, her mouth agape and her eyes sparkling. His voice became more desperate. "Sin? Did he hurt you, or not?"

The redhead got up and walked over to him. "Damn, Schoolboy. I didn't know you had it in you. Nice shot." She motioned with her thumb toward Rogers, who was pulling chunks of strawberry goo out of his hair.

Clint had walked over to help the blond up. "Great. We'll be able to smell him coming. Even more."

"Thanks a lot." Steve grabbed the towel that Clint handed him but couldn't help noticing the smirk that went with it.

Bruce stared at his district partner. "Sin. I saw… "

Her expression grew more serious. "Dunno what you saw. We were working together for a while. He didn't… he didn't touch me." She frowned curiously at him, waiting.

Banner blinked several times and stared down at the floor until she knocked him on the arm. "Hey. You don't think he'd have survived if he tried anything with me, do you?" When he looked back to her eyes, he saw that there was a bit of grateful surprise in them, and she spoke again, so only he could hear. "Thanks for defending me, Schoolbro." Then she grinned, and it was so contagious that Bruce couldn't help grinning as well.

"I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad it... never happened."

"Yeah, me too."

"Ah, someone could be concerned about the man lying on the floor, couldn't they?"

Bruce had the decency to flush slightly as he turned back to Tony. "Sorry, Tony. I didn't realize—"

"Yeah, yeah, none of us did. No hard feelings, big guy." Bruce reached out to help him up, and they looked at each other closely. "Let's blame the bastards, not each other. Deal?"

"Deal."

Kate Bishop, who had been watching from the sidelines, glanced at Charles and shook her head. "Good thing we have a rumpus room for these boys. You could choke on the testosterone fumes around here otherwise." Everyone turned to look at her, and she giggled. "I'm still hungry. Did Steve moosh all the berries?"

* * *

 _October 23_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"What do you say, Bishop? How about a little mental spar? Keep your mind limber?"

Tony was seated across the rec room with a chess set, and when he saw her come in from her training with North, he grinned her way, waving the white queen at her.

She just shook her head. By this point, even with Pepper around, it was well-established that Tony was a consummate flirt. At least this one she could be honest about, though. "I don't actually know how to play," she admitted.

But that just had Tony's grin lighting up. "No problem! I can teach you how," he said.

"That's alright," she said, waving him off as she headed for the bookshelves instead to find another Agatha Christie. She'd finished _Murder on the Orient Express_ and wanted to read more. She'd discovered she really did like mystery novels, and they were a great way to pass the time when really all they had to do otherwise was eat, sleep, and train.

"Come on, gorgeous. I promise I won't bite on the first lesson," Tony teased her way.

"Really, I'm fine," she told him with a little laugh as she found _And Then There Were None_ and pulled it from the shelf before she turned to see that Tony had the most dramatic pout on his face that, okay, she honestly had to laugh at.

"You're breaking my heart, Bishop," he said.

"You'll get over it as soon as Pepper shows up," she teased right back as she vaulted over the back of a chair and settled in with her book right as Kurt arrived as well — fresh from training with Matt. He made a show of going to the bookshelves to pull out the book he was in the middle of, though there was really no way that either of them were actually going to be reading as he slid into the seat next to her.

"What's he up to this time?" Kurt whispered her way as they settled into their usual sitting position — so close they were practically touching, but without actually breaking any rules.

"He wants to play chess."

"That's actually _relatively_ harmless," Kurt said with a smirk.

"Well, I don't actually know how to play, so he wants to give _lessons_."

"Ah," Kurt said, nodding his understanding. He leaned forward with a bit of sparkle in his eyes. "You know, if you want, I know how to play chess too. And I think a good chess game wouldn't actually break the non-fraternization rules, right?"

Kate glanced his way and gave him a clear once-over before she just started to grin. "That's true," she agreed. "We'd have to get Tony to clear out, though, or we'll have to endure him _pouting_."

"Let him find a partner and he'll be fine. There's a second chess set over with the games," Kurt said with an easy shrug as, for the time being, the two of them fell into actually reading the books they had in their hands.

Eventually, Rhodey, one of the trainers, stopped by just to check in and got roped into a chess game with Tony — and Kate and Kurt waited just long enough to be polite before they went to a table of their own to set up a board.

"So… chess," Kate said as Kurt started to set up the pieces.

"Yes, chess," he agreed with a little smile. "Have you ever seen anyone play before?"

She nodded. "Eli tried to teach me once, but it was _way_ more fun to shoot things with America than it was to let Nate sit by me and try to micromanage my every move." She shrugged. "Plus Tommy showed up halfway through the explanation and challenged me to a race, and we all know that's more fun than anything else."

He nodded. "It sounds like there was never a dull moment back in Twelve."

She looked down, with faded sadness in her eyes. "Then I've got you nice and fooled, Kurt. Half the time I was bored out of my skull — whenever the Sentinels got suspicious, we had to lie low, and that meant hanging out with dear old Dad."

Kurt reached over and touched her hand with his finger, which startled her into looking up at him again. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It must have been hard." He took his hand away, running his finger across her knuckles as he did. The sun came back out in her smile, and she looked at the board.

"Okay. Where do we start?"

He took a few minutes to explain the names of the pieces and the different ways they could move, and Kate repeated some of his explanations back to him. He knew that was her style of learning, and he'd seen her do the same in training by repeating back the steps a trainer told her. It seemed to work well for her, so he made sure she was done before he started the game.

He moved a pawn forward. She did too.

"Do you miss yours?" Kate asked suddenly.

Kurt looked up at her. "What?"

"Your family. The people you left behind in Nine." She wasn't looking at the board. "I know it kills me sometimes just thinking about it, and that's mostly my friends. I can't imagine having an actual whole _family_ I cared about on the other side."

Kurt frowned and moved his pawn. "I try not to think about it," he admitted. "My mother…Margali. I'm sure she's got her hands full with the twins trying to take care of them on her own. I made enough money that I was able to help take care of us, and without me…" He trailed off. "I just keep thinking that Fury and Coulson promised we'll be out of here when their plans are over, and then I'll see them again."

"You know that for sure?"

He shook his head. "I have faith," he said.

Kate nodded thoughtfully as she tapped her fingers on the table. "My problem is I'm half-convinced I'll see all my friends coming through the Tahiti program — or, you know…just the Games," she said suddenly.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at her.

She pointed at herself. "I'm the second to get reaped in three years from our group. I'm starting to think it's not a coincidence."

"I'm sure it's not," Kurt said, then paused and held up a hand when Kate tried to move her knight. "No, you can't go there."

"Why not?" Kate stared at her knight in confusion.

"It's two up, one over, not three up."

"Oh, right." Kate moved her knight down one space and frowned at it. "All the _other_ pieces have less complicated rules."

"That's just how the knights work."

At that, a mischievous sort of smile came over Kate's face, and she grinned with her tongue in her teeth. He didn't know what for.

Bruce and Wade made their way into the lounge to relax after their training sessions, chatting quietly about their coaches. Once they were through the doors, though, Bruce gravitated naturally to the chess boards, sizing up the contests and giving Kate an encouraging smile when Kurt said she was learning how to play.

"Good for you. Chess is relaxing," Bruce said with a warm smile.

She frowned at him, incredulous. "Relaxing? How? There are _way_ too many rules to this thing." She gestured at the knight she'd tried to move earlier as evidence.

Bruce's brown eyes looked intently over the board. "It's complicated enough to get your mind off whatever you're working on… I'm assuming the subconscious still is at it, but with chess… figuring out the next ten moves or so…"

"Ten?" Kate looked at Kurt, and a laugh bubbled out. "Seriously? I'm barely figuring out my last one!"

"It gets easier. Kind of like the workouts."

Kate shook her head and grimaced as Kurt moved a bishop. "I hated that my body couldn't do everything it could before."

Bruce squatted next to the table to talk at her level. "Have you noticed? If you're not thinking, just letting the body do what it remembers… things are easier." She pulled a frown at him and he grinned. "Seriously. Aren't they?"

"Well… archery was certainly easier than the new stuff I was learning. I mean, more than just easier, more… comfortable? Because when I'm in the zone, I don't think…."

"I know, right? It's weird. It's hard to _try_ not to think, but our bodies are used to it. It's called kinetic memory, the muscle memory of movement. It's why you don't have to think about it when you tie your shoes, or catch a ball, or—" Bruce seemed to be getting wrapped up in the excitement of his own thought.

Wade, who had beelined for the snack tables, came back with a bowl of carrots and bleu cheese dip in time to interrupt. "Personally, I do my best to _not_ think as much as is humanly possible. That's probably why I'm so amazing." Bruce and Kate shared an amused grin before Wade went on. "Aw, lookit the Kart, all domestically chessy."

Bruce stood and glanced away from the game to look at him. "You play?"

The other boy shrugged. "Not much. I could probably only beat half of the Kart—" His eyes abruptly widened. "OHMYGOD. Not Kart! No, no… KUTE!" He pronounced it 'cute', and began to dance around with his carrots, nearly bumping into the table that Tony and Rhodey were playing on.

"Watch it," Tony said, without rancor. "And phonetically, it would more likely be 'coot'."

"Nope. They're riding in the Kute Kart now."

Bruce glanced at Tony, gesturing with a thumb toward Wade. "As opposed to the one on the Coot Cart?"

"Exactly."

"Hey! I'm telling you, they're Kute! They're SO Kute! Just look at them!"

Everyone turned to look at the would-be couple, only to see the table was now empty. The chessboard was still set in mid-game, but one king and one queen were lying down.

The remaining boys looked at each other, and Wade pinched his lips together. "I see. Well, I win, anyway. They're off being Kute together…"

Bruce sighed and shook his head as he looked at the game still in progress between Tony and Rhodey. "I'll play the winner."


	15. Vampires, Galaxies, and Lumberjacks

**Notes: Major props to Canucklehead Cowgirl for this one because she has the life experience that makes this particular chapter shine. ;)**

 **Chapter 15: "Vampires, Galaxies, and Lumberjacks, Oh My!"**

* * *

 _October 31_

 _Noh-Varr's Apartment_

* * *

"Knock, Knock, I'm coming in," Jubilee called out. "And I'm adorable, so prepare yourself."

Noh couldn't help but chuckle as he went to the door, calling out on his way, "You are always adorable, and I am therefore always prepared," before he flung it open to grin at her.

"You are stunned, admit it," she said before she took a quick turn. Her costume was skin tight and black — though all across it, there were twinkling lights, and when she pushed a little button in her hand, it looked like there were small explosions of varied colors that shimmered and twinkled like fireworks in the night sky.

"Wow," he agreed, remembering to close his mouth at the last second as he just started to laugh. "I mean it, Jubilee — you are stunning, as you say."

"Well, they've been calling me a firecracker — so I figured I'd roll with it," she said before she blew a massive pink bubble.

"They have been calling you other things too, but I'm glad you did not base your costume off of that," he said, frowning for just a moment before he had to smirk at her — unable to hold the frown in the least.

"I didn't want to show that much skin," she said with a wink.

"Who would see but me?" he teased, gesturing around his apartment. "I am forbidden from attending parties, remember?"

She grinned widely. "Oh, well. About that," she said stepping in and putting her hands behind her back as she put on her best innocent look. "You can't _attend_ any parties that aren't required, but nothing says you can't _host_ one." She paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "The gang's on the way over. Break out your records, sweetheart. I'm ordering pizza."

The slow grin started at the corner of his mouth before he just let out a delighted laugh and spun her around in a hug that lifted her feet off the ground. "You are magnificent, and you are going to get me in trouble," he teased. "I love this idea of yours."

"If it comes down to it, I'll tell them that I did exactly this and jumped you. Threw the party around you so you had no choice but to endure it," she said as she hugged him tightly. "It's just no fun without you."

"Well, this far outstrips my plans to stay here and watch scary movies," he teased as he just swept her up in his arms and started to carry her toward where he kept his records and music collection.

"Well, when it dies out, if you're still in the mood for movies, I'll keep you company," she promised.

"Then we'll have to do just that," he agreed before he set her down at last, going through the cabinet in his living room to find the best party music. "Who all is coming?"

"Oh, you know," she said as she twirled a strand of hair in one pigtail. "The usual gang. Honey Lemon and Gogo, the rest of the crowd from Eight … Dazzler, Angel, MJ, Doreen … she really needed to get out, to be honest."

"Well, they're all welcome," Noh said with a wide smile. "What do you think — should I go for my usual DJ attire?" he teased as he started to arrange his records.

"I _may_ or may not have brought along some body paint. You know. If you wanted to switch it up for the holiday."

"And turn myself a gaudy orange to be a pumpkin instead of my lovable blue self?" he teased her.

"I didn't say I brought orange," she said. "Actually … I brought silver."

"Oooh, that sounds interesting," he said with a little laugh as he reached over his head to pull the tee shirt over his white hair. "I can always put my shirt back on if your vision fails to inspire, though I doubt that very much," he added as, for emphasis, he tossed the crumpled shirt into a waste bin.

"That won't be an issue," she said with a grin. "But if you get tired of my fireworks in the sky look, I'll just go grab a shirt from your room."

"You know where my favorites are," he said with a little grin and a wave.

"So you don't like it then?" she said with almost a pout as she walked away. "How sad."

He just laughed before he crossed to her in a few long strides and swept her up from behind into his arms to carry her bridal style. "Where are you going, Jubilee? I didn't say you should change now — wait for the movies!" he teased. "You look too lovely not to show off for our friends."

She grinned at him and leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Why in the world would I argue with the host?"

"That's the spirit," he agreed, still without putting her down as he just got some music playing with one hand and seemed content to carry her around the room in half a dance until the doorbell rang.

"Duty calls," she whispered in his ear.

He just let out a theatrical sigh. "If we must," he teased before he set her down — and the entire style team from Eight came bursting in, all dolled up in costumes of their own and carrying snacks. GoGo had brought an entire keg, but as soon as Noh started to object, she just started to _cackle._

"Check it out," she said as she got herself set up. "Root beer."

"GoGo," Noh said, shaking his head at her. "Please — consider how this looks."

"You're the DJ. You're not gonna be drinking anywhere near your equipment, right?" Gogo just grinned even wider. "You're _fine_."

"You are all going to get me in trouble," Noh said, shaking his head.

"Yes, that's exactly what we're trying to do," GoGo agreed.

"The fun kind," Honey Lemon clarified as she ran over to give him a quick hug as reassurance.

"Besides, you act like SHIELD is watching your every move for a pizza and dance party — seriously?" Fred chimed in. "They're too busy watching _our_ every moves for our terrifying costumes."

"He's a dragon again, isn't he?" Noh muttered to Honey Lemon, looking at the clearly handmade costume.

"He does a fine job with makeup, not stitchwork," Honey Lemon agreed with a little giggle.

"Pizzas are on the way," Jubilee said before she slipped her phone into a hidden pocket and gave Fred a clear up and down. "Nice. Looking better than last year."

"I wanted to breathe fire, but I didn't have time," Fred said with a theatrical sigh.

"And we are all very, very relieved," Wasabi muttered to GoGo, who just snorted out a laugh and nodded her agreement.

"Next year," Jubilee said with a reassuring pat on his arm. "Any word on when the others will be here? I'd like to get this shindig rolling."

"Probably about the same time as the pizza," GoGo said with a little shrug. "We thought we'd get here early and try and give Noh a heart attack over the keg, and I am _so_ disappointed," she added, rolling her eyes at Noh, who just smirked a bit.

"You are trying to kill me."

"Yes, actively," she agreed.

"Hey. Give someone else a coronary," Jubilee said, leveling a finger at the troublemaking prep team member. "He's been on probation _forever_. I don't think I'll make it if they extend it all the way to the next Games."

"Yeah, you just gotta make it two more months, right?" GoGo asked, grinning at both of them. "And then get on probation for a whole new reason? Like people finding out about you two?"

"What's to find out? That we're amazing?" Jubilee said. "Common knowledge."

"They can see that just by looking at us," Noh agreed as he put an arm around Jubilee's shoulders.

"Yeah, you two are amazing _together_ too. Very sweet," GoGo said, her troublemaking grin only widening as she leaned against the wall. "You know they have rules about dating within the district teams because they don't want you to outshine the victors, right?"

"That's ridiculous," Jubilee said with a wave. "All of it. My district's escort is dating a victor. And the victors don't even want to be in the spotlight. Most of them."

"Which makes them very easy to outshine," Honey Lemon pointed out with a little smile before the doorbell rang and she ran off to go get it and as expected, the pizza arrived with the rest of the party guests.

"Impeccable timing, as always," Noh teased the group of stylists as they all made their way inside.

"We heard there was a blue stylist in need of cheering up," Warren said with a smile.

"And here we are — but no blue stylist. The sad kind or the colorful kind," Doreen said with a matching smile. "But there is music and pizza, so at least there's that."

"Oooh, right — the paint job!" Jubilee said. "I think he needs some dark blue to go with the silver."

"You should add racing stripes," GoGo said with a smirk.

"Fingerpainting swirls," Honey said with a grin.

"And you need sparkles, or it's not a Jubilee masterpiece," Dazzler chimed in.

"Oh, surprise, surprise! I have glitter too!" Jubilee grinned. "Go set some songs and let's paint!"

Noh just started to laugh as he started up some appropriate music — starting out with "I Want Candy" and moving from there. "I didn't realize I was going to be a live canvas today," he teased.

"Why not?" she asked. "Sounds like fun doesn't it?"

"Well, I'm excited to see your work," he said, gesturing for her to get started once he'd suitably covered his couch with something he didn't mind getting painted as well. "I'm sure if I had any parties to attend when you were done with me, I'd be dropping jaws the way you are."

"We'll just be forced to photograph the evidence," Jubilee promised.

"I brought the camera," Honey Lemon agreed, holding up the little yellow camera as proof as the group of stylists half swarmed Noh to get in on the fun.

* * *

 _October 31_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"This is a _holiday_ ," Wade said as he followed Cassie from the training room and down the hall.

"Yeah, you said that," she agreed. "But that doesn't really mean anything down here."

"But — we should do something. Costumes are out, I get that .. but … what about some games? Scary movies? Horror stories — something!"

"I mean, I guess we could get together some party games," Cassie said thoughtfully as she clearly tried to find something to make him happier. "And Charles has some scary stories in his library, I'm sure."

"Oooh. I got it. I got it. Okay. Get everyone together. I'll meet you in the rec room." He just stared at her, waiting for her agreement, before he darted off down the hall, giggling to himself.

She had to shake her head, not entirely sure what he was planning but sure that whatever it was, at least she would be entertained. Life around the Tahiti wing was _so_ much less boring with Wade around. By a _lot_.

Of course, as she went around to all the kids in the program, they were at least on board with the idea of doing _something_ for Halloween, though when Steve heard that Cassie was letting Wade do the planning for this one, he just raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to get Kurt and Ororo to check out some scary stories from Charles' library — just in case," he said.

"That's a good idea too," Cassie said cheerfully. "We can turn down all the lights and sleep in the rec room when we all get too freaked out to leave. Essex's head will explode."

"That wasn't the plan, but I like the enthusiasm," Steve had to laugh before he offered to help her gather the rest of the kids, and before long, everyone under the age of twenty had headed down to the rec room to see what Wade had prepared for them.

It looked like he had taken to heart the fact that Cassie said the cafeteria was about the only thing festive about Tahiti around the holidays, and he gathered together as much snack food as he could to bring it out. He had washed out a large bin and filled it with water as well, with a bag full of apples just sitting beside it — and when the other Tahiti kids arrived, he was in the middle of hanging donuts from the bar counter with string.

"Yay!" Wade called out. "Pair up! We're picking partners!"

No one was surprised at all when the nearly immediate response from Kate and Kurt was to link arms as Clint snorted beside them and snatched Peter for himself — trying to copy Kate's exact same expression just for the look of alarm on Peter's face when he did. The other pairs were pretty well-expected, too — Steve and Ororo, Tony and Pepper, Sin and Bruce — and Carol paired up with Cassie while Wade hosted them all.

"Oh, if you two get busted for tonsil hockey here, I am _not_ responsible. That is not one of the games we're playing," Wade said to a grinning Kate and Kurt as he started up the festivities.

"Oh, we would _never_ ," Kate said with a look of pure innocence.

"No, not in public," Kurt agreed with a crooked smile Kate's way.

Wade walked the gathered group through the basics of each game and, instead of making them all line up and go one by one, he had them hitting all the games at once and was giving out prizes to the winners of each game — that often included an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek from him — and in Clint's case, he jumped up and wrapped his arms and legs around him in addition to the hug and kiss, even after he pulled them both to the floor against Clint's protests.

The mood of the room was fantastic as they were all laughing like _kids_ and just … enjoying the evening, more so when they transitioned over to the scary stories.

But it wasn't long before their party was sadly interrupted by Coulson, who informed them that _some_ people had missions to get to in the morning — which only prompted Wade to shift his story so that the monster in it was very clearly Essex, a vampire from 'beyond the beyond.' It was impossible not to get caught up in how incredibly expressive he was as he told those stories, and Clint was even silent on background commentary when faced with his amazing storytelling skills.

"Come on, Dad, five more minutes," Tony said with a smirk Coulson's way as Wade ramped up the theatrics on his vampire tale.

"I wish I could let it go on," Coulson said with a smile tugging at the corner of his expression. "I had no idea you were so dramatic, Mr. Wilson."

"Oh, well," Wade said, rolling his eyes a bit and striking a very upright and almost proper pose — only to melt half on Coulson, with his arm over his shoulders. "It's for the kids."

"Please, Coulson?" Cassie asked with her best bright-eyed expression, her eyes as wide as she could make them. "We haven't had a party down here in, well — ever."

Coulson looked from the kids to his watch and visibly slumped a bit. "One hour. But that's it. After that, I'll let the vampire know you're all out past lights out."

Wade let out a delighted squeal and wrapped both arms around Coulson's neck as he kissed his cheek. "Oh, thanks, Dad … Don't worry. I'll be waiting for you to tuck me in when storytime is over."

Coulson slipped out from underneath Wade's arms and just shook his head at his antics. "Finish your story, Mr. Wilson. Clearly, the kids want to know how it ends," he said with a muted sort of smirk as he headed out the door, though he could hear from the other room Wade ramping up the dramatics on the ending — relating how the heroic, understated hero in a perfectly-maintained black suit managed to drive a stake through the vampire's heart without cracking so much as a smile until the ordeal was over and the evil castle exploded behind him as he did 'the hero walk'.

* * *

 _Very early hours of November 1st_

 _Noh-Varr's Apartment_

* * *

The party had met its natural end, well before the police could be called, and after the party guests left, Jubilee slipped off to change into one of Noh's favorite shirts and then curl up on the couch under a blanket for the promised movie time.

It seemed to be exactly what both of them needed, and when Noh had gotten off the body paint and changed, they simply snuggled up, contented to be in each other's company. She fell asleep leaning on his chest partway through the second movie, though he stayed up a little longer just to watch her snuggle in. She always looked good in his tee shirts.

It wasn't long at all, though, before he slipped off too, one arm around her waist and the other propping up her head the slightest bit as the movie just played on, the wash of blue light over both of their faces projecting the flicker of images every once in a while.

Even though she'd fallen asleep before him, he woke up before she did as she was clearly wiped out from all the party planning and prep she had done the night before. Rather than try to slide out and risk disturbing her, Noh just resettled the blanket around them both and snuggled in a little to wait for her to wake up on her own, pressing a kiss to her forehead when she started to stir.

"People are going to talk, Jubilation Lee," he said in as stern a voice as he could manage.

"Then maybe I'll give them something to say," she said sleepily with a little smile before she slid her arms the rest of the way around him and gave him a squeeze.

"You know, sometimes I wish you would," he told her, half-thoughtfully and still rather tired himself — so he wasn't quite filtering his thoughts.

"Only sometimes?" she asked, her eyes not yet opened all the way. "I need to fix that."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "It would be worth it to lose my position," he mused. "I'd stay home and cook pancakes, and you would dazzle the world and come home to snuggle with me."

"Keep that up, and I might have to kiss you," she said, readjusting herself with her head on his shoulder.

He seemed to pause to consider it before he broke into a smile. "Of course, you would move in with _me._ You practically live here anyway," he said, clearly 'keeping it up' just to see what she would do. "And we'll convert my studio into yours so long as I can keep my music somewhere."

She picked her head up and just looked at him for a moment before she just darted forward and gave him a real kiss — for once. "Don't tease."

He was grinning all the way up to his ears. "I'm not at all sorry," he said. "And I wasn't teasing — I make excellent pancakes."

"Do you serve them in bed? No offense, but this couch isn't nearly as comfy."

He grinned even wider, if that was possible, and just nodded. "I'd carry you there, but my arm fell asleep an hour ago," he admitted, indicating their curled up position.

"Race you," she said with a little grin before she jumped up to dart off ahead of him.

"You're cheating, Jubilee!" he called after her as he scrambled to get himself off the couch when most of his left side was still asleep.

But by the time he got there, she was already snuggling in. "I win."

"Yes, you do," he agreed as he dropped down to sit on the bed next to her. "But you forget, Jubilee — if you want pancakes in bed, I couldn't have been there anyway. I can't cook in here," he teased.

"Not hungry yet. But if _you_ are ... go ahead, and I'll just snooze and get my perfume all over your pillow."

He considered it for a moment before he just shrugged and climbed in next to her to snuggle close to her and take a deep breath. "Yes, my pillow will smell very wonderful," he said with a little laugh.

"Come on," she said patting the blanket. "I could use a teddy bear more than a shortstack."

He just grinned at her and slid in a little closer, pulling her tight to him and wondering if she realized he hadn't been joking before.

* * *

 _November 11_

 _District 7_

* * *

When Kate and Clint had first arrived in District Seven at the beginning of November, both of them were… well, 'gobsmacked' seemed like the proper term here. The district was wide and sprawling, and the mountains tall and impressive — though it was the _trees_ that really got both of them.

For Clint, who had grown up in the desert mountains, it was almost claustrophobic having so many tall trees in the mountains around him. He was used to being able to see for miles in any direction, barring a rock formation in his path, but in Seven, there was no guarantee like that unless you climbed to the top of the trees or the mountains. It was almost an enclosed space, and even in November, there was far more green than he was used to seeing.

Not to mention the snow, which capped the mountains perpetually and had been falling and blowing away with relative consistency. They could both see their own breath coming up in little wisps in front of them, and the mountain peaks looked even more impressive and foreboding with the icy tops and clouds surrounding them from time to time.

Kate, on the other hand, had grown up around trees her whole life. The Appalachians weren't nearly so tall, though, and the dizzying heights were certainly spectacular, but the _trees_ ….

They were huge, old trees, pushing their way across wide swaths of mountains that looked like they hadn't been touched in all of the history of mankind. They were twice as wide as she was tall, some even wider, and they seemed to stretch up forever into the sky.

Kate tipped her head back to look up at the trees, and a wide, disbelieving smile broke out across her face as a giggle escaped her. "Oh, I want to stay here forever," she announced, and Clint just gave her a sideways look and a little chuckle before he shook his head and the two of them found themselves a good perch.

They were supposed to be looking out for some group that was causing trouble for SHIELD, playing outside of the bounds of both the Capitol and SHIELD, so this mission would involve a lot of waiting and watching… and misery.

Neither of them had realized when they started out the mission just how much misery would be involved, but it had been a full ten days without any sign of another human being, and in the meantime, they were cold, and in the snow, and wet — and just _tired_.

It was clear now why Charles had told them that they would _have_ to have a partner for this mission that they got along with, because ten days of waiting and watching and being wet — that could only go well if they weren't snipping at each other. Which they were, in a half-playful way, even with how much they got along.

The most interesting thing they had seen so far had been a landslide… which, admittedly, had been an adventure and a half to watch from their safe treetop perches. The noise seemed to echo everywhere, and both Hawkeyes found themselves concerned for each other, since they had spread out to make sure they had a wide coverage for observation — and even though the landslide was a ways away, it was still nerve-wracking.

But that was just about it. In the meantime, they were just waiting and watching and miserable, spending most of their time in the quiet of their own trees but taking turns sleeping in the branches. And they made it a point to share meals together so the cold misery wasn't _too_ isolating.

Most mornings, Clint would join Kate and teach her a bit of sign language while they enjoyed their breakfast together. Even though Tahiti had fixed him up, he still preferred signing — and liked to be able to share inside jokes — so Kate had already learned how to tell him when Essex was coming, and he'd shown her what it would look like when he told her the coast was clear for kissing purposes. Things like that.

Though, this morning was a little different. They had started off the usual way, with Clint going over what they'd learned the previous morning — but they got distracted by the sound of chainsaws and trees being felled in the distance. They were supposed to be far enough out that no one else would be around except them and some bad guys — if the bad guys were even _there_ — but apparently the cutting crew had made their way out all the same.

The two of them glanced at each other and then broke into wide grins at the chance to break up the monotony with something new, and it wasn't long at all before they were totally entertained, watching the process completely enraptured, as neither of them had ever seen it before. They tried to get as close as they could without risking being seen, just to get a better view of the whole thing, and they weren't paying much attention to the cutters themselves beyond just watching them work — until Kate noticed the shorter, stockier member of the group.

"Is that…?" Kate's eyes widened as she started to scramble to get a bit closer, but Clint had caught on as well and all but seized her by the back of her black uniform to keep her from going anywhere.

"You wanna give him a heart attack around all those chainsaws and falling trees?" he asked with one eyebrow raised, and she let out all her breath and just crossed her arms over her chest, clearly displeased with him keeping her from going to her friend.

He didn't let go of the back of her shirt, either, keeping one hand on the small of her back the whole time as they watched the lumberjacks work, though Kate was now totally focused on watching her old Games ally.

She hadn't expected him to go back to work in Seven. That just wasn't something that victors did, was it? They were supposed to live in the Victor's Village and…

Well, now that she thought about it, living across the street from Creed would drive _anyone_ out into the woods, even without having something as gorgeous as this place to run to.

What she couldn't have known, or at least what no one was telling her, was that Logan had been back working with the cutting crew for better than two months, and though Smitty had tried to just keep him on the smarter jobs — and out of the worst of the risky assignments — he'd bulldozed himself into them again, and within a couple weeks with the cutting crew, he was again cutting the big trees alone and climbing to the very tops of the tallest trees for problematic spots with little more than luck keeping him up there.

Logan finally felt like he was getting back into his life again. Or at least making a routine out of things and working hard enough to fall asleep at night — though the long walk to camp early in the morning and then back again to his cabin after work helped a bit with that too. He was almost 'normal' again.

The Alpha crew had been working all of that wet, soggy morning in a new section full of massive cedars, most of them every bit of ten feet wide — it had been a spot they weren't planning to touch for another month, but the fall rains had permeated the ground enough that where they _were_ set to cut had gotten too dangerous to traverse from the landslides that had been tearing down entire sections of that mountainside, and that just meant more work for the recovery loggers with the big equipment. Nothing there that the cutters could do to help with that job — so they had simply moved on to other territory.

Puck, it seemed, had finally learned from his mistakes and wasn't making as many bad cuts that had to be dealt with, but even the best cutters have to deal with natural deadfalls and hung trees to get to the timbers they wanted, and this particular hung tree looked dangerous from every angle.

Normally, whenever they hit a new spot, the men would simply spread out and get to work, one man to a tree and far enough apart that they wouldn't be near the others, but when it was a nasty job like this one … it was clear that whoever was cutting it would need backup, and Puck wasn't stupid enough to try and attempt it alone.

As a result, the bulk of the cutting crew just very carefully walked a wide circle around it, trying to figure out which way it wanted to fall — considering that it was hung up in two spots — up high in the branches, and again about twenty feet off the ground. If that wasn't complicated enough, it was clear that the tree had twisted a bit, and there was no good way to cut the second tree without it twisting toward where the man cutting would be standing once the hung tree was freed.

Puck finally thought he saw the best solution and went to work, starting the cut on the lower tree while standing half under the hung one, glancing up from time to time as he prepped it from the backside, hoping to compensate for the twist by urging the tree to fall toward the hung tree. Even if it worked, ultimately, it wouldn't fall that way — but it might keep the hung one from jumping toward him when he cut the other side.

They all looked ready to rush in and grab him, chainsaws running in case Puck needed to be cut free from under a branch if things went south. He'd just walked to the outside of the tree when there was a cracking sound high in the branches.

"Careful, Puck," a tall Native American man said, even though _he_ was one that was holding a running saw.

"I've got it, Michael," he called back as he once again looked up the tall pine and took a deep breath before he raised the massive chainsaw bar to set it against the tree. The saw screamed out, and bits of wood and bark were flying as Puck split his attention from the trees above and the cut itself, but when the tree creaked and pinched the bar of the saw, Puck did the right thing and just backed off, half running to a safer distance as the big tree he'd just cut fell his way.

The tree that was hung twisted hard, pushing it toward him, but it didn't right itself and fall from the second hung spot higher up. It slipped a bit — but didn't fall free.

"Oh, that's one nasty tree," Michael said under his breath as he shook his head slowly. "What do you think, Walt?"

"Can't be helped; it's right in the middle of that high value patch. We gotta get it outta there, and the grade's too steep to bring in equipment," Walter replied. None of them looked happy about it.

"I've got it," Logan said finally as he started to walk the long way around to the tree that was holding up the twisted log's fall.

"You really shouldn't, Logan," Walter replied. "In fact — you shouldn't even be _out here._ "

"Keeps me outta trouble," Logan said over his shoulder as he picked the spot to start climbing. Unlike a lot of the other guys that climbed, he didn't like to use a rope to climb unless he had to, though he kept one in his gear just in case for tying to the trees that needed to be directed a bit. "You know, I've dealt with worse," he said as he tightened the straps on his climbing hooks and then looked up the tree.

"Better take a look at the rest of these once this one's outta the way. Looks like they're all a little twisted," Logan said before he jammed the hooks into the tree and just started to climb. He'd gotten nearly to the point where the hung tree was when the whole thing creaked — but instead of stopping or slowing down, he sped his ascent and rushed to get a rope on the troublemaking log before he kept right on rushing higher to anchor the line.

Once that was done, though the creaking had continued, Logan pulled out his chainsaw to cut a few holes into the tree he had climbed — simply to put a few short branches into the holes for a platform of sorts that would let him walk around the tree without fighting with the hooks.

From there, he started cutting the branches that were holding up the hung tree, and with a lot of shouting from below, the hung tree finally slipped loose of the one Logan was standing in and fell with a groaning crash.

But the creaking sound didn't stop, and the shouting quickly picked up again as the tree Logan was in started to lean down the hill — it had to have been rotted out in the middle. There wasn't a thing any of them could do but cross their fingers and hope that he rode the fall out without ending up under the falling tree or skewered from a branch.

Logan climbed a bit higher as the tree fell, holding his breath as it went down, and just before it hit, he closed his eyes and jumped straight up, hoping that any rebound from the trunk hitting the ground wouldn't just fling him. The rest of his crew was running toward him and shouting his name before he'd even hit the ground, knowing full well that they'd all be in trouble of some sort if their new victor got himself killed working when he honestly shouldn't have been in the woods at all.

But luck could only take him so far, as the falling tree did rebound and snapped back to hit him hard. He flew off to the side and into a still standing tree several yards away.

Michael and Puck got to him first, shouting, "Stay down, don't move!" at him as they both positioned themselves to keep him down. "Just wait a minute! _Don't move._ "

* * *

Both Hawkeyes had watched as Logan tackled the hung tree, but when Logan fell and was then thrown, Kate very nearly knocked Clint out of the tree when he had to take her in half a bear hug as she just wanted to get _to_ him.

"Get _off_ ," she said through her teeth, trying to throw Clint. "That's Logan — look — he needs help — he's hurt."

But Clint more or less pinned her to the trunk; he was simply bigger than her and, despite their training, he was the better hand-to-hand fighter, if she was being honest. She couldn't throw him, and all he did was just hold her there until she stopped fighting him, muttering the whole time, "You can't, Katie Kate. You just can't."

When she finally stopped trying to squirm away, Clint let her up a bit, and she was half holding her breath as she watched the other lumberjacks rushing to Logan to help him. They could see where he'd landed, and he wasn't moving. He was hurt _badly_ , and if it wasn't for the fact that Clint still had half a hold on her arm, she would have made a break for it again.

"You go down there, and he's gonna think he died from that tree," Clint muttered in her ear.

"He'll tell everyone he had a near death experience, and our cover won't be blown," Kate argued right back.

"Yeah, so what're you gonna tell the other ones? You're a ghost?"

Kate glared at him. "Why are you defending this _stupid_ rule?"

"Cuz if the Capitol finds out you're alive, they'll try to make you dead again, and I prefer my partners alive and able to kick my butt," Clint said without hesitating, though she could hear the honest concern in his voice as he also had half an eye on Logan as his friends from Seven worked him over.

"I'm not scared of them," Kate said defiantly, as she kept her focus on the little group of lumberjacks, wondering why Logan hadn't moved yet.

"Yeah? What about Kurt and the other kids back home? You think the Capitol won't catch on that other kids are up and kicking? What about Nat, huh? She's locked up getting her head seen to — how's she gonna escape if they come looking?" Clint turned her to face him and then, seeing the look of pure frustration on her face, pulled her into a hug. "Yeah, I know. It's stupid. But until we kick off this revolution thing, we gotta keep everyone safe."

* * *

Logan blinked hard as he tried to draw a breath. "I'm okay," he said, though he didn't have much conviction behind his words or much air in his lungs.

"Like hell you are," Puck argued as the two and then three of them gathered around Logan to make sure he didn't move and that he was alright.

Michael started checking him over, trying to see if there was any obvious injuries, while the others simply kept a hand on Logan's shoulder to keep him from getting up. The fact that Logan hadn't done more than just argue lightly had Michael concerned.

It took the guys on the crew a while to be convinced that Logan was, in fact fine — though they believed him a lot quicker when he decked Puck to get him away from him. Walter just started laughing at that as he helped the smaller man to his feet, and after a few minutes of re-gathering himself, with one hand on his side, Logan slowly walked over and picked up his saw again.

He took his time walking the ridge to the next tree and simply went back to work, though it was pretty clear to anyone watching that he wasn't moving as quickly as he had been before, and there were a few times that he just had to _stop._

And in the trees across the ridge, Clint still had hold of Kate, who was decidedly less upset now that Logan was at least up, though that didn't stop him from muttering in her ear, "See? He's fine. Calm down, Hawkeye," before they got the radio call to head back and meet their ride — a few days early, but the cutters coming out that far meant the people they were supposed to spot likely wouldn't show anyway.

The team from Seven, meanwhile, kept cutting — right up until Michael finally called it — and after the last tree fell, the little group began to head back as the light started to wane in earnest.

Logan didn't waste any time at the base camp as he just dropped off his equipment and trudged slowly into town, though he didn't get far in before a tall boy with brown hair came running up to him with a frown.

"You seriously walked here by yourself?" the kid said without preamble or introduction.

"Why not?" Logan replied as he gave him a little double take. "Nothin' in the woods is gonna give me trouble. Who's going to bug me?"

"Today, it looks like that's my job," he said with a sigh and a shrug. "One of the Sentinels sent me ahead — the loggers called in to let us know what happened."

"Of course they did," Logan muttered under his breath. "I'm fine. Really. Like I told _them_. So you can head back and tell Mac to relax."

"Yeah, I saw you coming into town, and that's just a load of crap," the young man replied with one eyebrow quirked. Logan stopped dead in his tracks and just looked up at the kid as he continued, "Come on, I'm supposed to take you to go get patched up better than what they did out in the woods."

"There's nothing to patch, kid," Logan replied as he tried to just walk past him. "Busted a couple ribs, that's all. Can't wrap 'em. I'll just … take a little medicine and watch my side turn colors."

"Look, you're not even supposed to be out there," the kid said with his arms crossed. "And it's not just the one Sentinel wanting you to be seen to, so I don't think it's just gonna blow over like you seem to think it will."

Logan let out a breath with a curse, though the action seemed to make him pause for a moment as he tried to straighten up a bit, and the kid watching him wasn't entirely sure if the curse was from the situation or the obvious pain Logan was in.

"Okay, so … how'd you get stuck with the job, who the hell are you, and who do I have to convince?" Logan asked at last.

The kid shrugged up one shoulder. "I don't know why they stuck me with the job except they know I'm good for it, and I think you'll have to convince the Head Sentinel, since it's his head on the block if he has to tell the Capitol their victor got hurt on his watch." He paused, gave Logan a little smirk, and added, "I'm Scott, by the way. Scott Summers."

Logan just let out a huff and shook his head. "Well come on then, boy scout, if they sent you, they'll wanna know you did your job."

Scott raised an eyebrow at the nickname but shrugged and led the way down to the Head Sentinel's office, hands deep in his pockets with not another word spoken — though there was no mistaking the look of surprise on Scott's face when it was more than just Sentinels waiting for them. The mayor was there too, along with a few other city officials.

"Maybe you should just go back home," Logan said quietly. "I'll tell 'em you did what you were told and make sure Mac takes care of you. No reason for you to be around if someone gets twisted."

Scott seemed to pause to consider it and then just sighed, shrugged, and nodded. "Good luck."

Logan turned his head to watch the kid go for a moment before he drew in as deep of a breath as he was able and walked up to the Sentinel's office. The men outside just shook their heads at him as he passed, and when he got inside, Mac was there talking to the Head Sentinel and the mayor too.

"He's just trying to keep away from Victor Creed," Mac was saying. "And Smitty can use the help. He's one of their best cutters."

"It doesn't matter," Mayor Beaubier said in an understanding tone. "They _will_ have our heads if he ends up disfigured or dead before the tour." He paused and looked up as Logan stepped into the room. "I understand you had a little accident today."

"I've had worse," Logan replied, watching the man carefully. Beaubier was well-liked in the district, and kind to everyone that he came across, but he was still a connection to the Captiol, and that made him a bit untrustworthy, to Logan at least.

"Please, call me Jean-Paul," he said as he extended his hand, and Logan paused before he shook it. "I know you have dealt with much worse," Beaubier replied. "Which makes it that much harder for me to tell you this, but — you can't go out to work with the cutting crew. I'm sorry."

"Why? Just because I was stupid enough to live through their rotten Games? What the hell am I supposed to _do_?"

"You're supposed to relax and not get yourself killed by a tree while you wait for the tour and the next Games," Jean-Paul said. "If you'd had a less dangerous job to start with, then you could go back to it, but cutting ... " He let out a sigh that made his disappointment sound all the more genuine. "It's the most dangerous job out there. You don't know it, and I'm not supposed to tell you, but we lose more men cutting in a year than most districts lose _combined_ in all their jobs over the course of a year. You're just too valuable to the district."

"We'll make sure Creed leaves you alone," Tim Dugan, the Head Sentinel promised. "But you're not cutting anymore."

"Am I banned from the woods too?" Logan asked, half growling.

" _Just_ until you heal from your injuries," Jean-Paul said. "And only as long as you leave the cutters and the tribe alone."

Logan looked visibly frustrated as he just glared at all of them.

"And you're going to need to go see your grandfather," Dugan said. "He's been trying to get us to take you up there, but I won't make my men do that."

Logan turned to leave without waiting to be excused, and Mac gave both Dugan and Beaubier a quick apologetic look before he took off behind him.

"That Summers kid did what you asked him to," Logan said, trying to slip off. "So you know." He sounded ready to do something stupid, and Mac recognized the tone all too well.

"Hey, maybe they'll lighten up after the next round of Games starts," Mac said as he caught up with Logan.

"Don't hold your breath."

Mac sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know. I … they just don't know what to do with you. I don't think anyone's had a victor that wants to work."

But when Logan just ignored him, Mac reached out and took a hold of Logan's arm. "You're going to the doctor."

"He's closed."

"He'll take a minute to look you over anyhow."

"It's just ribs," Logan argued, but that wasn't going to cut it with Mac, who pushed him into the nearest wall and pulled the tails of Logan's shirt up to just stare open-mouthed for a second at the spectacular colors his side had turned already.

"I'll put you in cuffs if I have to," Mac warned, with real heat to his tone. "But you're going." Logan glared up at him defiantly as Mac kept his hard line. "And what the hell did you mean with that crack about being the stupid one that lived? Huh?"

Logan's glare dropped and he just shook his head. "Just came out. Doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah, right. I know how you are. When it just comes out that just means you didn't take the time to filter before you said it." He let out a breath and quit pushing on him. "Come on, you're going to the doctor, and then I'm going to make sure you get to your cabin."


	16. In Love With a Hawk

**Notes: *makes presentation hands* Behold. Our ships. They are many.**

* * *

 **Chapter 16: "In Love With a Hawk"**

* * *

 _November 11_

 _Tahiti Wing, Somewhere Underneath SHIELD_

* * *

"Hey, what's with the face this morning?" Peter asked as he slid into his seat at their usual table for breakfast.

"I was hoping that the mission Kate was on would be over by now," Kurt admitted as he played with his food.

"Well, they said it would be two weeks, right? Just gotta be patient for a few more days, and then I'll help you go demand your girlfriend back from Coulson," Peter offered with a grin.

"Yes, but it's my birthday, and I would have liked to have at least seen her," Kurt said with a long sigh. "I know, it's a bit selfish."

Peter held up both hands as he looked at Kurt with wide eyes. "Wait, wait, wait — why is this the first time I'm hearing about this? It's your _birthday_?"

"Everyone has one, Peter," Kurt said with a little smirk.

"Yeah, but _some_ of us sleep through ours, so we gotta celebrate the ones where you're not, I dunno, off in black ops doing black ops things or in the med bay or whatever else happens around here," Peter insisted.

"Then perhaps we should celebrate together?" Kurt said, the corners of his mouth lifting up with the start of a real smile. "We'll make up for you missing out on yours."

"That wasn't what I was trying to — I mean, yeah, that would be awesome, for sure. Sweet Sixteens all around for the handsomest half of Team Awesome," Peter said, brushing his knuckles off on his puffed out chest.

"Yes, that sounds correct," Kurt said with a little laugh.

"And who knows? Maybe Kate'll come home before the day's out, right?" Peter offered, trying to cheer his friend up.

"I'm not going to hold my breath," Kurt said, his expression falling a bit at the thought. "I wouldn't be surprised if they timed it this way purposely."

"So now is probably not the time to point out that if you hadn't gotten caught, you'd be spending your birthday _alone_ with your _girlfriend_ with no evil _vampires_ ," Peter said in a significant whisper with dramatically high eyebrows.

Kurt just gave him a very dry look in response. "She's not my girlfriend. Not officially anyhow."

"No, not at all. I have definitely not seen any hand holding under the table. Nope," Peter agreed, placing a hand over his heart.

Kurt just shook his head at his friend before he pointedly changed the subject. "Alright, Sweet Sixteen … what have you got in mind, or should I tell Wade that we missed your Sweet Sixteen? I'm sure he'd have something to say about that."

"Um, don't do that," Peter said, wrinkling his nose a bit. He paused and seemed to think it over, putting his chin in his hand as he did so. "See, now I wish I could tell you about the plans for the thing me and Tony have been working on for training? But it's not finished, super hush-hush…. It would be perfect though…" He bounced slightly in place, lips pressed together as he thought it over. "Well, I bet we could get Ororo to sweet talk the kitchen into a cake. She can get them to give her _anything_."

"It's because she's so adorable with those big blue eyes," Kurt said with a smirk. "And the shock white hair. She is irresistible."

"Yeah, you know the kitchen staff calls her their little goddess? It's _so cute_ ," Peter agreed with a wide grin. "I think Cassie's jealous," he added in a teasing whisper. "She's not the cutest and littlest anymore."

"Well Cassie seems to be entertained elsewhere anyhow," Kurt said with a significant little look. "I still can't believe those two."

Peter followed his gaze to where Cassie was totally wrapped up in whatever entertaining story Wade was telling this time around — complete with hand motions — and just had to snort out a little laugh. "I mean, at least she knows how to handle him," he pointed out. "I more or less… _can't_."

"He means well," Kurt said.

"No, no, I know. I just don't know what to _do_ with him when he does the spider monkey hug thing. Which he does more when Clint is gone," Peter said, shaking his head.

"He is starved for affection," Kurt said. "Not that it's an excuse."

"Probably why they get along," Peter said, tipping his head at Cassie and Wade. "I mean. Can you imagine being _twelve_ in this place with, like, four other people?"

"No," he said, shaking his head as he frowned at the thought and then decided to push the conversation back toward brighter matters. "But we should get our plans underway. A small party then?"

"Just cake and some singing, and … I'll ask Steve to draw us up a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey thing, just 'cause I saw that once. No idea how to play it, but it should be straightforward, right?"

"I'm sure Wade will know," Kurt said. "He seems to know a lot about socializing."

"Well, he _is_ from One," Peter said with a shrug before he stood up and patted Kurt on the shoulder. "Meet you back here after morning training, okay? I'll get 'Ro and Steve involved and try very, very hard not to let the murdered panda take this and run with it."

* * *

The birthday party ran about as well as one would imagine once Wade had completely taken over the way it ran. He directed everyone with the games — except for when he had an arm thrown over both Peter and Kurt's shoulders, half hugging them most of the night and randomly kissing the sides of their heads.

It didn't get out of hand at all though until Wade said that Peter's birthday was long overdue and did his best to _spank_ him.

"Wade, stop chasing Peter and help us get the cake in," Steve said, not really giving Wade a choice in the matter as he more or less pinned him under one arm and directing him away from the hiding spider.

"Ooh!" Wade exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Excellent. I'll just get back to you Spidey! The star-spangled man has a plan."

Peter shot Steve a grateful look and made sure to seat himself _firmly_ while Steve and Wade went to go get the cake Ororo had talked the kitchen into making — and it was even decorated in reds and blues for the boys.

Everyone sang the 'Happy Birthday' song when the cake came out, though even without candles, Wade stopped either of them before they could cut it and absolutely _insisted_ that they had to close their eyes and make a wish first.

Peter and Kurt just glanced at each other, shrugged, and closed their eyes for a moment before Kurt handed the knife to Peter, since he was older, so he should get to cut the first piece.

"Ooh, you guys must love me, because that looks _delicious_ ," said a familiar voice in the doorway, and the kids couldn't help but grin when they saw that both Clint and Kate were back from their mission, looking fairly worn out, though Kate was smiling at the cake as Clint just strolled right in and took a seat next to Luke and looked like he'd been part of the party this whole time.

"Those wishes work _fast,_ " Wade mock whispered to Steve. "You _know_ that's what he wanted, right?"

"Everyone knows that's what he wanted," Steve said, though he was speaking in an actual whisper and smirking a bit to himself.

"What's the occasion?" Kate asked as she came around the table and dropped into a seat beside Kurt — which Carol had suddenly vacated and only half-heartedly tried to pretend she was just getting up to get some lemonade.

"Birthday party," Peter said with a wide grin that just kept getting wider the more he looked over his two friends. "Kurt's is today, and we thought we'd catch mine, too, since I slept through it." He indicated the knife in his hand for a moment and then added, "It's the first of August, for future reference. Though… does it count if I was dead when it happened?"

"Noted!" Wade said, nodding his head. "And it totally counts!"

"We should make a calendar or something," Cassie suggested with a wide smile. "I mean, it's not like we can do gifts or anything, but still, birthdays, holidays, we should do something for them, right?"

"Easier to do something for them when there's a small mob of us they can't exactly stop as easily," Mike whispered under his breath, so that only Ororo caught it and gave him a little look.

"Wait, it's your birthday, and I didn't _know_?" Kate said, looking halfway betrayed Kurt's way.

"Well, you were gone," Kurt said.

"Yeah, but…" Kate just shook her head before she lightly punched him in the shoulder. "If I'd known I'd have, I dunno, written a note or _something_ in case I was still gone. It's your _birthday,_ Kurt!"

"Well, you're here now," he said with an unmistakable smile. "Perfect timing."

She just beamed at him and scooted a bit closer as the other kids in the room just shared little smirks over their resident lovebirds before Peter cut the first piece, and the cake was declared to be a complete and total success — especially the wishing part.

Unfortunately, it was still late enough in the day that it wasn't long before curfew, and Coulson had to come break up the party by pointing out that they'd used up their free one-time late-night pass at Halloween.

Kurt started to argue it but, Kate just tried to quietly get him to just … roll with it. "Don't get in trouble on your birthday, Kurt. That's ridiculous," she told him, though there was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes that he didn't know the context for, so he just sighed and let it drop.

Despite the early end to the festivities, the kids were in good moods as they all headed to their rooms, since it wasn't often the daily grind of training and missions was broken up. Kurt was still awake, though, and had settled into reading one of the books from Charles' library after the curfew hit and the doors were locked. He was well into his second pass through _The Three Musketeers_ when he heard, to his surprise, little muffled sounds that seemed to be coming from the wall.

He sat up a bit straighter and marked his place in the book to set it aside and listened more attentively, pressing his ear to the wall as he definitely recognized the sound of movement, though what it was, he wasn't sure.

And then, unmistakably, there was the sound of Kate saying, "ow," after a slightly muffled thump.

He turned his head to try to isolate where the sound was coming from when he heard a light scraping noise underneath the bed and he looked under it, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. "Kate?" he said softly.

"Shh," came the response before he saw, through the grated vent cover, that Kate was _inside_ the vents and working to get the screws on the vent cover undone.

He slid down onto the floor and got halfway under the bed to try and help her speed the progress along, deciding on not asking questions until she was out of the wall.

Once they had the cover off, she grabbed his arm, and he pulled, and she slid right out onto the floor beneath his bed with a wide smile. "Happy birthday, Kurt," she said in a whisper.

He just grinned and leaned forward for a kiss that was not at all like the sneaky ones they'd been stealing right along.

When the kiss broke, Kate was positively beaming. "Hey," she said. "That was supposed to be my present."

"You can give it to me again," he suggested.

She flushed a bit pink and giggled before she leaned forward and stole another long kiss, and he could feel her smiling against his mouth the whole time. They were still half tucked under the bed, and she didn't seem to be planning to go anywhere as they more or less made themselves comfortable down there. "I went to Seven," she told him in a quiet whisper. "Kurt, it's _gorgeous_ out there. I really wish you could've come with me."

"Maybe I'll get to see it some day," he said.

"I hope so," she agreed. "The trees are _huge_ , and I've never seen mountains that tall before." Her eyes were sparkling as she talked about it, her head propped up on her elbow. "It was freezing cold, though. Clint hated it, but he's from the desert, so he hasn't even ever seen _snow_."

"It sounds amazing," Kurt said, smiling sedately at her.

She nodded, though something changed in her expression for a moment as she took a deep breath. "Kurt, I saw Logan there too," she said in a rush. "He was out cutting trees."

"What?" he said, clearly shocked. "I thought … I didn't think he'd be doing anything like that. They put him back to work?"

"I guess?" Kate shook her head. "Maybe it's different in Seven than in the other districts, or maybe he's just, you know. Being Logan."

Kurt smiled a bit at that and just nodded. "That sounds closer to it, to be honest."

"Yeah, that's true," she had to agree. She took a deep breath and added, "He was working on this huge tree and he got thrown. I don't know how to describe it, really — I've never seen anything like it—"

"What do you mean he got thrown?" Kurt said with a frown. "How does a tree throw you?"

"It was falling, and it, well, it sorta bounced him off," Kate tried to explain.

"Wait, he was on it when it fell?" Kurt said, looking a bit more alarmed.

"Yeah — I had no idea that's how it worked," Kate said, wide-eyed.

"It's not supposed to," Kurt said. "Did anyone else do that?"

"No, it was just him that I saw," Kate admitted. She bit her lip and shook her head. "I'd've gone right to him, only Clint pinned me down."

"Is he _trying_ to get himself killed?" Kurt asked, more hypothetically than anything as he shook his head, a frown creasing his forehead.

"See, that's what _I_ want to know, but Clint pointed out that we're kinda… well. Dead. So it might not be good to show up after he gets hurt and let him think he died too?" Kate was clearly pouting about it. "He walked it off, but Kurt, I swear, there were about ten minutes where I don't think I was breathing either."

Kurt just looked deeply troubled for a moment as he thought it over. "We need to ask Charles what's going on. They can't just let him ... "

"Yeah," Kate agreed with a fervent nod. "Clint and I stopped by his office on our way back, but he was gone — I think maybe with Natasha. Which, by the way — did you know they brought her back too?"

"No, I didn't," Kurt said, though his tone was a bit distracted. "I wonder who else they brought back."

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure all of these secrets are stupid. The being dead thing, the not knowing who else is alive — not fully, anyway — just… all of it." Kate let out a huff of a breath before she glanced at Kurt's expression and immediately softened her gaze. "Oh, crap — sorry. This is supposed to be a birthday visit, not a complaining party."

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "This … all of this, I really needed this. I was afraid Logan would be doing something stupid like trying to drink himself to death or baiting Creed. This … was good. And the kisses were much better than I could have hoped for."

She grinned at that and leaned forward to steal another kiss. "Yeah… I think so too. About that last part," she said with a little blush across her cheeks. She gestured back at the vents for a moment as she cleared her throat. "Clint and I have been mapping them out, so we know how to get around most of the residential area now," she explained. "I still don't know how he _fits_ in there."

"Almost like he's a contortionist or something," Kurt said with a smirk.

"Do… you wanna see how to get back to my place?" Kate offered.

"Yes, please," he replied with a grin.

She matched his grin with her own and let out a little giggle again before she climbed into the vent and waited for him to follow her. He was surprised to find that the vents were wide enough for them to move around in, and while he fit in comfortably, he was sure that someone with wider shoulders like Clint would have a hard time of it.

"Okay, be as quiet as you can," Kate instructed him in her softest whisper. "Some of these vents share a wall with Charles' and Essex's offices, so… sneaky is the key word here."

With that, the two of them very quietly and carefully made their way through the vent systems, though Kurt didn't realize just how much smoother the trip was now than it had been when Kate and Clint first got started exploring — there were far fewer spiders and webs and debris to contend with.

Kurt tried to keep track of the path back to Kate's room, though he was a bit surprised by just how many branches there were before they finally stopped and Kate started to fiddle with the vent cover up ahead of them again. She rolled to her side, and he realized that he could, just barely, slide himself forward to help. He felt his face flush as he crawled forward and also realized something else — he hadn't been in this tight of a space with, well, _anyone_ since he and Wanda had been stuffed into that hideaway compartment in the chariots back at the Capitol, and… this was _Kate_.

Kate kept her tongue tucked in the corner of her mouth as she worked on the screws and leaned over him slightly to reach the other side, and Kurt found suddenly that it was hard to focus on _anything_ when she was so very close to him.

"Uh, Kate?" he whispered, and when she turned to face him, they were so close that their noses brushed.

He kissed her then, while she was still so close and easy to reach, and she made a small noise of surprise before she kissed him right back with so much enthusiasm that he couldn't help the elevation his eyebrows reached.

It was a much longer kiss than the one she'd planted on him when she first woke up in the TAHITI program, or the short ones they were trying to sneak past the cameras, and far more satisfying, because he could feel her smiling against his mouth, and when it ended, there was none of the worry about being caught. Just a whole lot of smiling and a steady thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears.

For a long moment, they both stared at each other, and Kurt had the feeling that Kate was just as lost as he was about what they were supposed to do now. But if he was grinning half as broadly as she was, he figured she'd know why he couldn't come up with anything to say.

Finally, with a breathless sort of sigh, Kate said, "That was nice."

"Yeah," he agreed. He couldn't stop grinning.

She kissed him again, softly, and he wondered if there was someplace he was supposed to put his hands—someplace he _could_ put them when they were so close and when moving around might maybe get a little more uncomfortable than he was quite ready for…but no, she'd stopped kissing him, so it was okay; he could figure out the hands thing some other time.

Kate beamed at him. "I think I'm going to like doing that from now on," she said, smiling with her tongue in her teeth before she turned back to twisting the last of the screws off of the grate, turning around once she was out to seize him by the arms and pull him out as well.

"How did you figure this all out?" Kurt asked as he dusted off his pajamas a bit.

Kate just grinned. "Trial and error," she admitted. "And we borrowed some paper and pencils from Steve, so we have maps. They're incomplete, but we've got 'em." She reached around to her own pajama pocket to pull out a crumpled piece of paper and show it to him. "The vents are too small to navigate close to the med bay and training rooms, I guess to keep us from stealing drugs or weapons."

"This is amazing anyhow," Kurt said. "We don't need the drugs or weapons .. but perhaps we could learn something from the offices."

"That's what I was thinking," Kate agreed with an impish grin. "But Clint says those are the ones with pressure plates and stuff." She made a face. "We're trying to figure a way out of that one, though. Maybe find a way to listen in without getting too close — we'll figure something out."

"I'm sure," Kurt decided before he gave her a little look and pulled her close for another kiss.

Her eyes were twinkling when the kiss broke, and she just rested her forehead against his for a moment. "I think we're going to have to use the vents way more often. This is much nicer than trying to snuggle in the corner of the rec room."

"Agreed," he replied, snuggling into her. "But I should ask — since we had our celebration today — when is your birthday?"

"December 31," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder and the two got as comfortable as it was possible to be hiding under the bed like that. "New Year's Eve. When I was really young, Susan used to tease me I was too impatient to wait until the next year."

"I would say that you just needed a day where fireworks and kissing was the norm," Kurt countered.

"Well, the kissing thing is really recent," Kate sid with a blush and a smile.

"And long overdue, clearly."

"Well, I _did_ kiss you as soon as I woke up," Kate teased. "You can't get much earlier than that."

"I suppose," he said with a shrug.

"Should've kissed you in the Games," she said, only half-teasing now.

"It would have certainly put an end to those ugly rumors before they could start."

"Well, yeah," Kate said, a sly smile starting at the corner of her mouth. "That and I'd be staking my claim to the cutest boy in the Games." She paused and then amended it to, "And all of Marvel."

At that, he just grinned wider and leaned forward for another kiss, and after that, they stayed hidden under Kate's bed for a good long time for their own late birthday celebration, just the two of them.

* * *

 _November 15_

 _Essex Laboratories_

* * *

"You brought Clint again," Natasha observed when Charles and her former district partner arrived at her cell.

"I thought you might want to see him," Charles said. "As I understand it, he rather enjoyed the last visit."

"He's a masochist," Natasha said with a smirk as Clint just nodded his agreement and unceremoniously dropped into a sitting position on the floor nearby, all long legs and tangles of limbs as usual. She wondered if Charles knew how effective a distraction that was — that was likely why he kept bringing Clint.

"I was gone for a couple weeks; sorry 'bout that," Clint said with a light shrug. "Heard you've been playing nicer, though. Stop pulling Charlie's braids?"

Natasha just gave him a _look_.

Undeterred, Clint grinned back at her. "So it's just the worms in the sandwiches and the shoving him on the playground. Got it."

"Clint, you're an idiot."

"You love it," he said, completely unconcerned.

She let out a little noise almost like disbelief as she shook her head at him before she turned her attention past him to Charles. He was a much less frustrating target — and easier. "So — what are we doing today?" she asked, sounding almost polite. "More philosophical debates, or should I expect to tell you about my childhood?"

"I simply thought that we might start by talking about how your sessions went with Dr. Essex," Charles said.

"He's far more structured than you are," she said with a guarded look. "You're unstable and unpredictable. At least with him, I know what to expect."

"Then you would be the first ever to say so," Charles replied. "To any of that."

"I'm also the first from the Red Room, as I understand it," she countered.

"Yes, and perhaps I didn't make it clear before, but I will now — SHIELD has tagged Red Room trainees as largely unstable and unreliable for mission work."

At that, she looked honestly upset. She had been told that was why she'd been brought back; to go to work. If she didn't have that, if she didn't have a mission, a goal... "That's not—" She stopped and seemed to catch herself and took a deep, cleansing breath.

"Not what they told you?" Charles replied.

"Not consistent with all the effort you've been putting in with me," she clarified carefully.

"That's because I believe you're not a typical Red Room flunkie. I think you're smarter than what you put on and that you can learn to get beyond the brainwashing they do there. Even if you are as deeply entrenched as anyone I've ever met."

"And how many Red Room operatives _have_ you met?" she asked with a frown.

"Every one that has gone through the Games since I went in," Charles said. "And several that managed to find employment in SHIELD when they were not chosen to compete."

She scrunched up her brow a bit. "It's … you can't _leave_ the Red Room," she said, sounding as if the idea was distasteful.

"You can," Charles replied. "But you have to choose to."

"You don't understand," she said, half breathlessly. "You _can't_ leave the Red Room. The Red Room is family. You _can't_ leave it."

"My dear girl, family does not ask you to die for their honor. Nor does it hold you this tightly. There is no love in that organization. Only control."

"C'mon, Nat," Clint chimed in when Natasha just looked completely blown away by what she was hearing. "You gonna tell me you care about those people more than ... well. More than me?"

"You don't count. You're an idiot," Natasha muttered under her breath as she carefully sat down on the floor, no longer standing as she usually did when Charles came around.

"So you'd drop me for them to make you march in line again?" Clint challenged. "That's not right."

"No," she said quickly, looking up to meet Clint's gaze. "No — that's not what I'm trying to do."

"But you just said—"

"I said you don't count," she said.

"Oh. I see how it is," he replied, though he looked a bit down on her answer. "Just like in the Games. Can't let anyone know you might care."

"You're not Red Room, Clint," she said, almost softly.

"So I don't matter?"

"You—- you don't count as family," she said.

"See, that's kinda funny since I always thought family was the people you chose," Clint said. "But you're choosing them. Even if they don't care what happened to you. Tell me — how'd they deal with the ones that lost? Did they cry? Mourn them at all?"

"No." Natasha had her hands in fists as she met Clint's gaze. "They weren't ready."

"Only ... they picked them to die. They sent them in not ready."

"I know," Natasha said, raising her voice a bit. "I know — I told them so."

"And they did the same thing to you. Sending you in not ready. Pretty sure they didn't mourn you either." He glared her way, more hurt than he was angry. "And you'd die for them again — for what? What did they do for you other than turn their backs?"

"And your method is so much better?" she snapped back at him. "You were fine giving your loyalty to Buck until you weren't — and then you just went off to _die_."

"I didn't give him my _loyalty_ ," he shot back with heat in his tone that Charles hadn't heard from him before. "I went in so I didn't have to be _around_ Buck. At least if I died, he wouldn't be a problem for me anymore."

"You took the coward's way out," she accused him. "You ran away."

"I got tired of some jackass telling me I was worthless all the time. But you seem to _enjoy it._ "

"I'm _never_ worthless," she all but snarled. "Not with them."

"Yeah?" Clint challenged. "I wonder what they're saying about you right now. Probably nothing at all. Just another failed tribute for the others to _forget_ and _ignore_."

"The trainees, maybe," she allowed, but she raised her chin defiantly all the same.

"No, not just the trainees," he said. "You know the trainers dropped you as soon as you cracked. Wrote you off on the first day."

"You're wrong," she insisted.

"I'm right," Clint said. "Again. Your record is getting wrecked here, Nat."

"You don't know anything," she said, the heat rising in her cheeks and her voice. "You don't know how deeply the Red Room has their hands in everything. They haven't…" She took a breath. "They won't forget me."

"They already have," Clint said. "And you know it. But if I have to wait here with you for the next round of kids to come through — just so you can meet the next failed Red Room girl so she can tell you herself that they forgot … I will."

"That's a waste of your time," she said.

"You might think so, but I don't forget the people I care about just because they're wrong. Or believing lies."

She just held his gaze for a long time as the silence stretched on between them. "Alright," she said at last, very quietly. "We'll wait together then. Just so I can prove you wrong."

"You'll have to make sure that it happens between my missions," Clint said. " _Some_ of us have a schedule to keep while we're waiting to be proven right."

"So important now," Natasha said with a little smile. "Is that why you like working for them more than SAFE?"

"SAFE is a bunch of losers that follow the biggest creep they can find. If that's the kind of 'leadership' you want .. maybe _you_ should spend some time with Buck."

Natasha frowned at that. "That's not what I—" She looked down, and for the first time since Charles had met her, she muttered out a quick, "Sorry."

"I miss you, you know that? You stubborn mule. These kids out there are great, but ..." He just shrugged and shook his head. "Guess I better just get used to it, the rate you're going."

" _Or_ you could tell your friend there's nothing wrong with me so I can get out there and help you," Natasha suggested.

"Yeah, but I don't believe that myself when you're defending the Red Room that hard. Still."

"You'd think he'd just let it go. It's been months," Natasha agreed, shooting a little look Charles' way.

"Months and you're still acting like they care," Clint said with a frown.

"They do," she said softly.. "You just don't understand it."

"You have nothing to back that theory up," Charles said gently. "And all evidence points to the contrary, I'm sorry to say."

"You just don't understand," she said again. "I wish you did. I really do."

"I would if you'd tell me," Charles replied with an almost pleadingly kind tone.

"I can't," she told him.

"You won't," Clint corrected.

"No. I can't," she insisted.

"Your mouth works just fine, Nat." Clint was shaking his head as Charles rested his hand on Clint's arm.

"We've intruded on you for too long," Charles said. "I don't like to see you upset. Either of you."

"No, I'm not upset," Natasha tried to say, shaking her head. She told herself the outburst wasn't because she hadn't seen Clint in so long as she tried to reason it out. "And — it's not an intrusion. It's part of my schedule."

"Then perhaps we need to adjust the schedule," Charles said.

She took a deep breath and held Charles' gaze for a long time, but though she was looking at Charles — she was moving her hands, signing to Clint: _Come back with him more often._

Clint watched her sign for a moment and then just nodded and knocked 'yes' once. "I'll find more time in my schedule for you, 'kay?"

"I'm still dedicated to getting you out of here long before the next Games," Charles promised her. "Please don't let your pride get in the way of something more meaningful."

"Yes, I know," Natasha said with a sigh his way. "You mean well." She'd heard it often enough — not that she believed it.

"And I hate to see you stuck here when you could be with the others," Charles admitted.

She smirked a bit at that. "Haven't you seen my Games? I don't play well with others."

"I have, but I think you'd get along well enough with this group," Charles told her with a twinkle in his eyes. "The girls in particular could use a strong figure in their midst."

Clint snorted at that. "Oh yeah. Cuz what those girls are is shrinking violets."

Charles let out a little sigh that sounded almost weary. "They are joy and sunshine — for the most part."

"Yeah, Nat, come mess with 'em," Clint said with a smirk. "You gotta see Kate and Kurt try not to act like they're making heart eyes every five seconds. It's _fun_."

"The same can be said for Wade and Cassie," Charles added.

"You mean you let that … that _lunatic_ walk free, but you keep me in here?" Natasha asked, slightly thunderstruck.

"His issues were organic, and his brain damage has been healed — along with all his burns. He no longer wears a mask," Charles said. "I wish brainwashing was easier to undo," he added with a soft, clearly disappointed sigh.

"There's always been more to it than that," Natasha said in an almost weary tone. "You just don't understand it."

"And I likely won't until you decide to open up to me about it," Charles said. "But I will keep asking, and keep talking with you until you decide to trust me."

She smirked a bit. "I trust you with Clint, don't I?"

"Clint trusts me with himself. But I'd like you to trust me for yourself," Charles said. "I'm not nearly as menacing as I appear," he said with a smirk.

She almost couldn't help but smile at that. "And that's saying something."


	17. Birthday Bash

**Notes: We're just chugging along here in our little universe, which we have now given a number. So… behold! The 867! :D**

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Birthday Bash**

* * *

 _November 30_

 _District 7_

* * *

The front door to Logan's house burst open, and Heather swept inside carrying a few wrapped presents and a smile. She dropped off her things on the kitchen table and went right up to Logan's bedroom. Without waiting for him to wake up, she plopped down to sit beside him with a wide smile and a declared, "Happy birthday."

He startled a bit at first and then glared at her for a moment before he dropped back down into the pillows and closed his eyes again, face down and trying to get comfortable after she'd so rudely woke him up. "You know," he said thickly. "The whole town is gonna start talking if you keep pullin' this crap."

"Nonsense. Mac is much cuter than you are," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she shook his arm.

"I got more muscles," he countered. "Even if you're trying to make me fat."

"Unsuccessfully," she said with a bright smile. "And besides, he looks good in a uniform," she added with an impish little look in her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said before he finally stretched out a bit and gave her a little frown when he rolled onto his side. "Was there a reason for the early wake up call or did you want to beat oh … absolutely _no one_ on doing the birthday crap?"

"I wanted to be sure I knew where you _were_ ," she admitted. "I know you probably want to spend your birthday _not_ in this house across from Big and Stupid over there, so — early morning wakeup call."

"He's not a concern of mine," Logan said easily.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said sincerely.

"I was planning to just … head out to the woods."

"See? I knew it." She looked entirely vindicated as she pulled him up to a sitting position. "Mac sends his birthday wishes, by the way. He won't be by. _Apparently_ he has better things to do than babysit. According to his supervisor."

"You have better things to do than babysit too — considering _I don't need a babysitter._ " Logan sat up with a little shake of his head. "He's not my big brother. He can stop trying to act like it any time."

"Close enough," Heather said with a shrug. "And family's family."

"Yeah, just don't say that too loud," Logan advised. "They got no sense of humor about that."

She just gave him a raised eyebrow look. "I've been here for how long and not said a word? I'm not stupid, Logan."

"You _are_ trying to babysit me."

"That's not so much stupid as it is pointless and fruitless, but humor me."

"Same thing," he said with a little smirk. "So … what did you want to do? I'm assuming this wasn't just to poke me awake."

"I just wanted to share a small breakfast with you," she said with a sweet smile. "And then make you open some presents. I saw those books you were reading…" She shrugged. "I was inspired. And you never get anything for yourself."

"Coffee sounds good," he said with a nod. "Meet you there? Or … do you want to make sure I can dress myself?"

She made a face. "Then people really _will_ talk," she laughed as she just headed off to get the coffee started.

He rushed getting dressed simply so she didn't have to wait for him, then pulled a face when he saw how many colors his ribs had turned. The black and purple was gone, but now, it was a sickening collection of greens and yellows.

When he got downstairs, Heather had done a bit more than just coffee and didn't look the least bit apologetic. "You know you're not the only one that cooks in this place, right?" he asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"At least all this nice kitchenware gets used _more often_ when I come by," Heather countered.

"Hey, I do a little venison now and again," he defended. "Which - if you guys need some … I got nothing better to do than hunt. Unofficially. Off the record."

"I wouldn't say no to that," Heather admitted with a little smile. "And besides, you need something to do. Unofficially."

"Seein' as they won't let me do anything else," he grumbled to himself.

She gave him a look that was halfway apologetic before she shook her head and pushed the two distinctly book-shaped wrapped packages his way. "Open 'em."

"Or you'll beat me with 'em?" he asked, his chin in the palm of his hand as he watched her.

"I would, too," she said without hesitation.

He gave her a little crooked smirk and nodded before he did what she directed. He had to stop for just a moment, as the books she'd found were a pair of old leather-bound copies of _Where the River Ends_ and _The Grizzly King._ "They look great, Heather, thanks," he said, just looking over the covers. "You trying to educate me or something?"

"You need all the help you can get," she teased him. "And they're fiction anyhow."

"No kidding," he said dryly. "I got Smitty trying to get me into a foreign language and you're throwing fiction into the mix."

"Mine's more fun," she laughed.

"Looks like it," he agreed. "The other one might be easier if I had someone that knew what they were saying to work with — by the way, Smitty doesn't."

"So you're saying mine is the superior present," she teased. "Good to know."

"It came with breakfast. Definitely superior." He paused and looked thoughtful. "But he gave me whiskey. And that's kinda fun too."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"Got nothin' else to do," he said.

"I thought you were going to keep me in venison for the rest of my life."

"Done. Got three butchered in the freezer right now."

"Instant service," she said with a teasing smile. "If I'd have known, I'd have come over sooner and made something for dinner too."

"You got better things to do," he said quietly.

She just covered his arm with her hand for a moment. "Not right now, anyway," she said before she gave him a little smile and then busied herself with refilling the coffee.

The two of them took their time with a quiet breakfast, and not long after Heather left, Logan headed out into the snowy woods. He really didn't have any reason to hunt, and it was too early in the season for ice fishing, so that just left scouting or setting trap lines … and when afternoon came around, it was time to break out the whiskey and just listen to the woods and the residents of the forest.

He sat there for a while, drinking and taking in the ambiance until the afternoon light started to fade. When the wolves began to howl just before sunset, he finally started heading back to the cabin, but he never did make it all the way there as, finally, Victor Creed found him again — and he was in no mood to be nice and clearly out to pick a fight.

Logan held his own for a while, but his reflexes were slowed by the alcohol, and it wasn't too terribly long before Victor got a solid hit on him that Logan didn't just bounce back from. Seizing that advantage, Creed dove on the younger man and just started to wail on him, kicking him while he was down once he got tired from beating on him, which might not have been quite so bad had he not been healing up already from a few broken ribs.

Creed didn't stop working him over, even after he heard the bones break, and by the time _he_ wished Logan a happy birthday, the little victor was bleeding pretty badly into the snow and wasn't breathing too well from the rib that had gone into his lung.

It was just luck that the whole thing happened close enough to the road that when the work shift ended, he was close enough to get spotted. The same lanky, tall kid that the Sentinels had sent after him before was walking down the road with his hands in his pockets when he spotted the blood in the snow.

He glanced over both shoulders but didn't see anyone around, so he nosed down the trail of blood until he found Logan, and then he had to wince away from the sight, teeth gritted as he checked to make sure Logan was even still _alive_. "Crap," he muttered on seeing just how bad it was, and he pushed himself up from his knees to stand up again, shaking his head over and over again. "Don't. Die," he muttered through his teeth. "I'll be right back." With that, the kid took off running to try and find the nearest, well, _anyone_ who could help.

He very nearly ran into Mac, and he pulled up short, looking up at the Sentinel with slightly wide eyes as he recognized him as the same Sentinel that had helped Logan before.

"You alright?" Mac asked with a little frown. "Look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not yet," Scott replied with a shake of his head before he took in a deep breath and spit out, "It's Logan, the new victor — he's hurt pretty badly."

"Of course he is," Mac muttered. "It's been all of two weeks; can't go much longer than that." He radioed for backup and told Scott to lead the way, but when they got there, even Mac had to swear to himself when he saw how badly Logan had gotten it this time. "If anyone sees Victor Creed, pick him up," he added as he finished requesting medics to their position, and he waved Scott over to help him figure out how bad off Logan was. "If you see anything bleeding freely, put pressure on it."

"Got it," Scott said, still looking a bit wide-eyed, though he couldn't help but ask curiously, "How d'you know it was Creed?"

"No one else wants a chunk taken out of him," Mac said, tipping his head to Logan. "And Creed's been quiet lately. Fifty bucks says he's the only guy walking around with freshly busted knuckles."

Scott just nodded his understanding and tried to help Mac staunch the bleeding, still wincing a bit at just how badly Creed had messed Logan up.

The two of them stuck around even well after the medics showed up, and the guy in charge just kept swearing to himself even as he made the call for an airlift. He turned to Mac and shook his head. "We're not equipped for this here," he said. "They're gonna be pissed off when they find out, too. Creed wasn't holding back."

"Hey," Mac said, turning to Scott. "You wanna do me another favor?"

Scott looked a bit surprised but nodded. "Alright."

"You know where I live, right? Everyone does. Go let my wife know what's going on, would you?"

"Sure thing," Scott said, a little surprised at the request, though he headed off all the same at a jog, realizing a bit belatedly once he got there that he looked pretty bloodied. But, well — he only had the one coat. He tried to rub it off in the snow, but he finally just had to sigh and knock on the door and hope he didn't scare the Sentinel's wife.

When she opened the door, she didn't even check to see who it was, assuming that it would be either Logan or one of the other Sentinels. "You know you don't have to knock—" She stopped short when she saw Scott, and her smile fell for just a second as she took in the blood and the expression on his face. "Hello," she said. "I don't … what happened?"

"Sorry," he said quickly, looking a bit sheepish. "I couldn't get it all off and… your husband sent me to tell you Logan was hurt," he explained. "Apparently, Victor Creed got a hold of him."

"Of course it was him. I _knew_ today was going too smoothly," she said with a look of fury on her face, her hands clenched at her sides. She took a breath through her nose, then shook her head, trying to give Scott a smile instead. "Come on in and warm up," she said, pulling him inside. "Clean up before you go back home. I don't want you in trouble for helping."

He looked like he might try and argue, but she'd already halfway pulled him inside, so he just made sure to take his boots off at the entryway and shut the door behind him.

"Dinner's on the table; apparently there will be extra tonight."

"You really don't have to do that," Scott said, a little embarrassed now.

"Mac sent you to tell me what happened and keep me company until he gets back. So. Get something warm in your stomach while you wait," Heather said. "And I've already had to argue once with Logan to eat today, so don't even start."

"It might be a while," Scott said as he looked for a place to set his coat that wouldn't get blood anywhere. "They're airlifting him to the Capitol."

"There isn't anyone I've ever wanted to hurt before, but I would love to take that creep's head off," Heather muttered as she set Scott up with some dinner. "How did you get involved?"

"I'm just — I just happened to be walking home when I spotted him," Scott admitted.

"Well I'm glad you did," she said as she sat down with him. "He doesn't believe he'd be missed if anything happened to him. The idiot."

"That doesn't make sense," Scott said with a raised eyebrow. "To hear the cutters talk, he's pretty well-liked."

"Did I mention he's an idiot?" Heather said.

"You did," Scott said, this time with a little smirk at her antics. He paused, then had to ask, "How do you know him, though? I mean… no offense, but you're a Sentinel's wife."

"He has always been on the Sentinels' radar," she explained. "But the women in town know he's just — he _tries_ to take care of people. It gets him in trouble."

"Yeah, I saw the Games," Scott said.

"He won't talk about them other than to say they lied. But from him, that could mean anything," Heather grumbled, almost to herself.

"Yeah, well, he doesn't exactly seem the talkative type," Scott said before he took a bite of Heather's cooking and gave her a little smile. "This is good — thanks."

"Come by anytime," Heather said, and the sincerity in her tone told him that she meant _any_ time. "You kids aren't taken care of very well. Mac and I don't mind — _and_ I have a steady supply of venison."

"That's okay," Scott said quickly, a bit of a red tinge rising on his face.

She tipped her head to the side as if she was considering before she just nodded once, sharply, to herself. "Fridays," she said. "Show up on Fridays, or I'll come looking for you. No arguments."

"Can I send one of the younger kids in my place?" he countered, still feeling a little sheepish. He wasn't looking for a handout, and the other kids at the orphanage didn't have jobs like he did. They'd appreciate a warm meal more than him.

"No, but you can bring them with you," she replied.

"Really, you don't have to — I've got a job carving. I can take care of myself," he said.

"I said Fridays. I mean Fridays. Or do you want to go for Wednesdays too?"

"Fridays it is," he half muttered down at his plate of food.

"It's not punishment," she said gently.

"I don't think it is," he said quickly, looking back up at her with obvious concern, thinking he'd offended her. "Really. I just ... I'm fifteen, and I can take care of myself, and there are other kids…"

"I know, but you're a good kid. Start bringing the ones that need it the most with you. Just — tell me how big of a crowd I'm looking at." Heather gave him a little smile. "I can be sneaky."

"A crowd of kids isn't sneaky, no matter how good you are," Scott said with a smirk.

"We'll figure something out," she said with a shrug. "Maybe I'll just send you back with a side of venison instead. Like I said—" She leaned forward. "—I have a pretty steady source."

He just smiled a bit and nodded. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

 _December 2_

 _Capitol Hospital_

* * *

Fury was on the other side of a one-way mirror, seated in a chair and keeping an eye on the newest of his victors as the young man was recovering from the beatdown he'd received. As soon as he was up, Fury wanted to have a word with him, but as it turned out, a different victor got to him first.

"This has _never_ happened before," Charles Xavier said as he rounded the corner, looking both angry and just simply confounded.

"I just want to know _what_ happened before I start handing out punishments," Fury said evenly, though it was through clenched teeth.

Charles wheeled himself over until he was watching Logan as well, his chin resting on his hands clasped together. "Creed seems to have an unhealthy obsession with him," he said. "He did during the Games, and it hasn't waned, it seems."

"I can't figure out why," Fury admitted. "I thought it was just one of his usual torture methods — but this is definitely something else."

"I'm not entirely sure myself," Charles had to admit.

"The Sentinels say that he's been avoiding Creed. Sounds like they think Creed got the drop on him. Defensive wounds go along with that, so he fought back. Of course, Creed isn't talking, and I just want to know who started it."

"There were no eyewitnesses?" Charles asked.

"Frankly, we're lucky that he was found at all. He was coming in from the woods," Fury told him. "A little further out and he'd probably be dead — or brain dead."

Charles frowned deeper at that, looking to the unconscious Logan. "I didn't know it was that bad. I came here as soon as I heard and didn't talk to Dr. Reyes…." He shook his head. "This has never happened before. I can't understand it. Even when he has fought with other victors, Victor Creed has never gone this far."

"He's made it clear he wants the kid dead," Fury said. "The feeling is completely mutual, too."

"And yet he did everything in his power to make sure Logan won the Games," Charles said, almost to himself as he mulled it over.

"You know, I wonder if he did," Fury said. "He didn't try to get any sponsors for him — at all — and the one shot he had to contact him was just to brag about his crimes and plans for more. I think he wanted him to die in there."

"It was clearly motivational, though, or you wouldn't have allowed it to make it to the boy," Charles said with a small glare Fury's way.

"I knew about Logan breaking Creed's nose before the Games started," Fury said. "I knew what they were arguing about, and I figured it'd light a fire under him. Yeah. It was motivational — but Creed sure didn't know it at the time."

"And now he's trying to fix it," Charles mused. "Get rid of the newest victor in his spotlight, perhaps — or finish the job he started."

"Or," Fury said with his head tipped a bit to the side. "He knows the kid could take him down if it was a square fight." Fury tipped his chin toward Logan. "According to the blood tests, he was half drunk when they fought."

"You think Creed is intimidated by him?" Charles almost smiled at the thought.

"He'd never admit it," Fury said. "But I haven't seen him act this way with anyone before — and that kid in there is the first one I've seen to stand up to him."

Charles shook his head and let out a breath. "We have less than a month before the tour. If this continues…"

"I'm going to make sure he's healed up quickly," Fury said. "And he's going to stay here until he's back to how he was before Creed pulled that little trick." He let out a sigh. "In the meantime, I'll make sure Creed is occupied for whatever time is left between his return and the start of the tour. It'll be covered. He'll be in perfect shape when it counts."

Charles just shook his head. "And then there are six months between the tour and the next Games. You're proposing a short-term fix to a long-term problem if we want them both to survive."

"There will be plenty of reasons to keep the kid in the Capitol after the tour."

Charles just frowned and fell silent at that, though he had to nod. That much was true.

"I'm going to have you pick a steady day for him. Figure him out. I'll make sure the rest of his schedule works around yours."

Charles nodded thoughtfully. "I'll draw something up for you," he said, then had to shake his head a bit. "Between your newest victor and the Red Room recruit we're working on… you certainly know how to keep a person busy."

"If you can't handle it, Essex has already volunteered for _both_ ," Fury said without taking his gaze off of Logan.

"That's not what I said, director," Charles said with a bit of steel. "I actually appreciate the chance to put my own training to use in such depth. I just wish it wasn't necessary in either case."

* * *

 _December 6_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Clint was in a good mood that morning as he rested his feet on the chair across from him and tipped his chair back over coffee that morning, and Kate was quick to notice.

"What's the occasion?" she asked, and she probably meant to ask nicely, but she was not at all a morning person, and she seemed more cross that he was so chipper so early than anything else.

He reached over and ruffled the top of her hair a bit. "Keep it to yourself, Katie Kate, but today, in the outside world, I'd be all grown up and almost outta Dodge with the Reapings. Eighteen today."

"It's your birthday?" Kate perked up significantly at that, and Clint just chuckled.

"Don't get any crazy ideas now," Clint said. "If you come at me with Wade, I _will_ get you back in spades."

"But we should do _something_ ," Kate insisted. "Seriously, Clint, if I'd known, I'd… I don't know. I'd have done something."

"You can go shoot with me, and I can show you how it's done — again," he said with an easy smile.

She grinned at that. "You're so on. And I will wipe the floor with you, like always," she countered, and she only waited long enough for Clint to finish his breakfast before she grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him off, past a slightly confused-looking Peter and Kurt in the halls — though of course, they were more entertained the longer they watched the two Hawks running off together.

"Nothing like starting the day wiping the floor with you on a little trick shooting," Clint said with a smirk when they arrived at the range.

"Oh please," Kate said, rolling her eyes as the two of them pulled out their bows. "Remember who the sidekick is here, Clint." Her eyes sparkled with barely-checked laughter as she added, "But since I'm feeling generous, and it _is_ your birthday, you can call the first shot."

"Well, since you're feeling so benevolent, I think I'll just kick your butt by a little bit. Make it feel like you were close."

"It's so cute when you try to be your own hype man, oh sidekick of mine," Kate said with a laugh as she patted him on the shoulder, and he just chuckled at her before they started up their games.

They started out easy, as usual, just getting into a groove and taking shots at actual targets for a while, working in a few double shots, though Clint didn't pull a triple shot, even though he'd been working on it in his personal training, because he knew Kate didn't have it yet.

He _did_ , however, bug her by switching hands a couple times. He was left-handed, but most bows weren't made for that, so he knew how to shoot either way. That was the one nice thing about this Tahiti program — the bows were made specifically for the two of them, and even though it was just little, slight changes, they made all the difference in the world.

Still, Kate couldn't shoot left-handed, but Clint could shoot right-handed, so on those shots, Clint did, in fact, wipe the floor with her.

Kate had the quicker draw, though, so she came back with a trick shot through one of his arrows in mid-flight that had him laughing as she pinned his shot to the wall — and they just got more and more competitive from there.

By the time they ran out of arrows, they were in a full-blown argument over who had won, since Clint had, at the very end, pulled out a triple shot, but his rightmost arrow was off target, so Kate argued that it didn't count. Clint countered that only her center arrow was on target when she tried it for herself — and they probably would have kept right on arguing all the way back to grab a bite for lunch, but they both stopped short when they saw Charles on his way into his office.

"Hey, the X man is back!" Kate said with a beaming smile as she bounded over to say hello, Clint close on her heels. "How was Ten? We missed you!"

"Ten was as it always is," he replied. "And I much rather would have been with this group than doing what I was." He gave them both a warm smile and invited them in. "How did you fare in my absence? No major psychotic breaks, I hope."

"No, we've just been training and hitting a few missions," Clint said with a shrug. "Meant to catch you before, actually, after me and Katie's last mission, but we got caught up with Nat and..." He shrugged.

"Well you've got me for a few days before I have to leave again. Preparations for the tour are already well under way."

"Yeah, I heard," Clint said, making a face. "You should see the mission schedule. Coulson's not gonna let a major distraction like that go by without pulling out _everyone_ and putting us to work."

"Which makes me all the more upset that I can't be here to support you between missions," Charles said with a frown.

"We don't usually need psychological help between missions," Clint said with a little smirk.

"Well ... except after we went to Seven," Kate clarified for him. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What happened in Seven?" Charles asked with a frown.

"We saw Logan," Kate said, her eyes wide.

"And we saw him working on a tree when it threw him," Clint explained to Charles. "Looked like it mighta broken a few ribs, the way he was walking."

"It did," Charles said, shaking his head. "That boy …"

"We should be there to help him," Kate said, her arms crossed over her chest. "He shouldn't be alone."

"He's not entirely alone," Charles told her. "Though he thinks he is."

"This whole thing is stupid," Kate said. "He's got friends here — we should be able to help — and instead we just have to stay back and _watch_ when he's _hurt_." She was very nearly on the verge of stamping her foot.

"I have it on good authority that he's safe," Charles said. "At the least until the tour starts."

"Good." Kate did in fact look relieved to hear it, and she just took in a breath, clearly trying to calm back down since, well, Charles was being so nice and accommodating about the whole thing. "I can't tell Essex stuff like this or he'll just… be _him_. But you said you'd keep an eye out."

"He has a Sentinel _friend_ that has been watching out for him," Charles said.

"Logan made friends with a _Sentinel_?" Clint shook his head half in disbelief before he just threw both hands in the air. "Of course he did. What the heck."

"From what I've read, this man has tried to keep him out of too much trouble for years," Charles said. "I can't figure out why, but he goes well out of his way."

"I'm glad to hear it," Kate said with a wide smile. "He needs looking after sometimes."

"Yes," Charles agreed with a nod. "He certainly does." Charles looked between the two of them for a moment before he held his breath and turned his focus to Clint. "I'd like to see your friend Natasha before I go, and time is of the essence. Do you have room in your schedule to check in on her?"

"Yes." Clint nodded fervently and without the slightest hesitation. "Whenever you want. Yes. Of course."

"I have to speak with Mr. Banner this afternoon, so if you're finished with training—"

"Yeah, I'm done. Let's go," Clint said quickly. "Can't think of anything else I'd rather do right now anyway."

"Then Miss Bishop," Charles said as he gave Kate a warm smile. "I'm afraid you'll have to give my regards to Mr. Wagner and Mr. Parker. I'll see the group of you after the tour concludes."

Kate just shooed them onward with both hands. "Go. My birthday present to you," she said Clint's way. "Go get your girl."

They were just barely out of the office when Charles had to crack a little joke. "If she wasn't on Essex's side of things, I'd find the need to rush down to my office for something once we got to see her and leave the two of you to… talk."

Clint grinned at him outright. "You're alright, Charlie. You know that?"

"I don't approve of all these rules," he said, waving his hand, though Clint could see the little smile at the corner of his expression. "Far too much interest in others' love affairs."

"Preaching to the choir," Clint said as they made their way down the hall toward Essex's side of the Tahiti program. "Never met a rule I liked myself."

"Yes, I've read your file. It took me several days to get through."

"Must be why you guys brought me back. Already been on a few SHIELD-sanctioned B&Es."

"I can't say that's what got you on the list," Charles said. "But if that's what it takes, then I'm glad you're here."

"Well, I'm told I also shoot straight," Clint said with a smirk as he waited for Charles to get them through the security checkpoints. "And I have less of a problem killing people than Kate does," he added in a slightly more subdued tone.

"Well, she should keep that reluctance as long as she can," Charles said. "I'm not exactly thrilled at the idea of all the killing."

"Yeah, I try and take the deadlier runs for her if I can. Got a bit of an arrangement with Coulson soon as I got him alone for five seconds. He seems to think the same thing — keep the younger ones outta the worst stuff, y'know?"

"Yes, it's one of the things we agree on," Charles said as they reached the last checkpoint. "Have you been able to speak with Natasha while I've been gone?"

Clint frowned and shook his head. "No. Haven't seen her since the last time you and I went in." He let out a sigh. "Three weeks to the day."

"Long overdue," he replied as they finally got to Natasha's door. He knocked before he opened it, announcing himself before they came in. "I apologize for the wait between sessions."

As usual, Natasha was standing at the other end of the room when they arrived, though she looked honestly pleased to see Clint, at least. "Well, like someone reminded me last time, some people do have missions and other things on their schedules."

"And I would be remiss if I didn't admit that it will be another rather uncomfortable stretch between this and the next," Charles said. "Though I do wish that were not the case."

"Maybe you won't need another session," she said guardedly, all but sizing the two of them up with her gaze as she seemed to consider something. "You want me to join up with SHIELD, don't you? So ... let me join up."

"For now, I'd like you to join, yes. But I'd like to know that you can say no to any mission they try to assign you too."

"Can _you_ say no?" she asked with a raised eyebrow Clint's way.

"Ah… haven't tried. I'll do that next time, see what happens," Clint admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mostly say yes to get outta the house? So ... I'll try it and get back to you."

"I'd like to get out of here too," she said sincerely and turned her gaze to Charles. "Let me join SHIELD. Let me run missions."

"I'm afraid that part is up to the director," Charles said. "And he had said he wanted to take a personal interest in your case."

"Then send him my way, and I'll sign whatever pledge or take whatever oath I need to."

"Ah, well, that's a bit delicate," Charles told her. "You'll need to go to him."

"Then let me out of here and give me a map. I'm ready. Really — I just want out." She looked sincere as she met Charles' gaze.

"How have your sessions with Dr. Essex been going in my absence?"

"Just fine," she said, waving a hand. "He wants me to join SHIELD too."

"Ah." He nodded his head in understanding. "I find it interesting that you can't trust most people you come across, but you have leapt to what Essex tells you without pause." Charles gave her a sedate smile. "And that he claims that there are no records of any of his sessions."

"He doesn't keep records for _you_ ," Natasha said, the beginnings of a sneer forming despite her attempt to look pleasant. "It's confidential."

"He has demanded the records of every person to go through here and has given the records of those he has had sessions with — when he was ordered to. But … there are conflicting reports on how many sessions the two of you have done in the past three weeks. Perhaps you could clear that up for me?"

She considered Charles for a long moment. "I'm not sure what to tell you," she said at last.

"The truth would be lovely."

"We have as many sessions as I need," she said with a little nod.

"Yes, and if you're concerned with your friend knowing how many that is, I'll have him step outside. Just since our last session, my dear."

"I'm not comfortable telling you or him," she said with a frown.

"I'm not asking the content of the sessions," Charles replied.

"What does it matter?" Natasha asked with a little heat to her tone. "You two are fighting for power, and all I want to do is get out of here and join the others. I don't want to get caught up in it."

"It matters because even I know we can't send a Red Room kid up to have tea with the director," Clint said. "Just tell him the number, Nat."

"I'm not going to kill the director or anything. You can send me in handcuffs if it makes you feel any better. I just want to join up. Please." Natasha's tone was almost pleading.

"Then just tell me the number of sessions," Charles said reasonably. "It's such a trivial thing to keep to yourself. And it doesn't reflect badly on you regardless of what the number is. So please, Miss Romanoff. It's not even a psychological question."

"It's just that there were a lot," she said in nearly a mumble. "They — they all kind of run together after a while. And sometimes we'd pick up after a break — do I count those as two sessions or one? And what about the ones that were interrupted by him having to turn his attention to other inma— operatives?"

Charles' smile dropped just a bit, and he looked honestly disappointed. "My greatest regret in your care at this time is that it will be another 6 weeks before we can have another session, and in that time, I know without a doubt that you will continue to slip further."

"I'm not slipping anywhere," she insisted.

"Essex has one session on record in the time I was gone," Charles said. "But video evidence runs to the contrary, with two a week. All but one of them fairly short." He drew in a deep breath and just watched her process what he'd told her. "For as deeply as you believe the Red Room to be entrenched, you seem to forget that this _is_ a SHIELD facility. Staffed with SHIELD personnel that are far more disciplined than Essex."

"I just want to join SHIELD," Natasha said in a whisper.

"Because he told you to," Charles said. "And because of that, you're not fit to join. Yet."

"What do you want me to do to prove my loyalty?" Natasha half pleaded. "I'll do it."

"I wanted you to tell me the truth," Charles said simply.

Natasha looked as if she'd been slapped as she stared at Charles. "You're going to leave me here then."

"I have no other options for now," Charles replied.

Natasha visibly wilted and leaned back against the wall with a deeply settled frown. "Six weeks," she said quietly. "And then I'll prove it to you when you come back. I'm ready."

"I hope you're right this time," Charles said. "But … I believe I need to give the two of you a few moments. As long as you don't try to kill him?"

She gave him a dry look. "Unless you think that would prove my loyalty to SHIELD," she said with a slight smirk.

"Charming, but an awful thing to say to the boy on his birthday," Charles said. "You have fifteen minutes." With that, Charles left the room so Natasha and Clint could talk alone.

"I didn't realize it was your birthday," Natasha said with a sigh as she leaned against the wall, looking a little more open now that Charles was gone — though it was an almost tired sort of look on her.

"Would you have told him the truth if you'd known that?" Clint asked.

"Would it have mattered?" she asked, sounding just… down.

"I think so," he replied.

"Then maybe," she said. "I don't know. I don't know what he wants from me. It keeps changing, and I just want to get out of here, Clint."

Clint watched her for a long moment, the urge to wrap her up sounding like a scream in the back of his mind. "He just wants you to prove that you're thinking for yourself and _not_ still living in the Red Room."

"No, he wants to know _he_ has my loyalty, not Essex, even though they're on the same team," Natasha said with her arms crossed.

"See, I don't think that's true," Clint said. "The same team thing."

"Think what you want. But you know it's really about the fact that I listen to Essex and not him."

"Why? The guy's a creep, Nat."

"He is, but we know how to deal with creeps."

"Yeah, we kill them, we don't … follow them."

"Come on, Clint," she said, half-pleadingly. "Tell him to let me out of here. Let me come to the other side with you."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I think he's right. You're more in the Red Room now than when we were in the Games."

"That was why I lost," she said. "I lost sight of what I was. But if I work for SHIELD, if I have a purpose again — Clint, _please_."

He just shrugged openly. "Not my call, Nat."

"Xavier listens to you," she said.

"Yep, but like I said, I think he's right."

"Then lie to him." Natasha shook her head. "We've done it before."

Clint frowned at that. He'd never seen Natasha like this — open and almost pleading. "Why? So you can get your mind twisted up again and get yourself killed? No way."

"I'm not going to get myself killed," she said sharply.

"That's what you said last time," he replied just as sharply.

"How do you think I'll get myself killed by coming over to your feel-good party, huh?"

"By doing something stupid for the Red Room," he said. "If you gave it a try — a real try, not the fake just to get what you want try — you'd see how right I am."

"Then let me try it," she said. "Let me — it's your _birthday,_ Clint. Let me celebrate it with you."

"You can't twist me up on this one," he said. "Just gotta tell the truth next time. Thought you were gonna have a heart attack when that was all he asked for."

"I just… didn't expect it."

"He's an honest man," Clint said. "I know you don't know how to handle that, but it's simple. Treat him with honesty."

"And how does he handle you?" she asked with a bit of a glare.

"I got nothin' to lie about," he countered.

"No? I know you, Clint Barton. And you're no SHIELD agent."

"Don't have to be. I got nothin' to hide. They know it all, and I'm not going to lie for the Red Room."

"Fine." She all but sneered his way. "Fine — you go with him then. Go back to your precious _Kate_ and your cushy new life and—"

"Are you _jealous_?" he said with a disbelieving look.

"Of _you_?" She wrinkled her nose like the very idea was distasteful.

"You sound jealous."

She crossed her arms and glared at him even deeper. "Get out of my room, Clint. Go eat cake with the other _children._ You know where to find me when your favorite babysitter gets back."

"Should I _come back?_ " he asked. "Seems like all I'm doing is pissing you off."

"I don't know — should you?" she shot back. "You'll have to ask the all-knowing Xavier if you're _allowed_."

Clint glared. "I'm allowed, I just don't know if I'm wanted. It was my idea to come here now instead of tomorrow, you know."

"I hope you have a happy birthday, Clint," she said with a note of finality to her tone. "Make sure you make it to your next one, too."

He waved at her with one hand as he turned away. "If I don't see you, Merry Christmas. Or whatever they say to each other in your little cult."

"And a happy new year," she said in a tone that held no well-wishes for him at all.

Clint very nearly slammed the door on his way out and just fell into a deep glare, leaning against the door for a moment when he left. He took a breath, slammed a fist against the door, and then straightened up to head back out, without sparing Charles a glance. He just wanted to _leave._

Charles just watched him go with a little sigh. He knew the young man wasn't exactly mad at him, but … that girl was far too impressionable to be left with Essex long-term like that. He decided to talk to Fury about the entire situation and make sure that he knew that Natasha was covering for Essex. It might not stop Essex from accessing her and continuing whatever he was doing, but it would put the director on alert to the growing problem.

As for Clint — he stayed with Charles only long enough to get through the security back to the more open areas of the Tahiti wing before he made a dash right for the shooting range and, minutes later, he had on a pair of solid earphones to cancel out noise and a handgun to practice on some paper targets. It was about as close as he could get to when he used to just turn off his aides and tune people out, and besides, it always felt good to shoot stuff, no matter the weapon.

He wasn't sure how long he was down there — or how long Bobbi had been there — but he eventually had to reset the paper target and turned to find that she was standing behind him with one hand on her hip as she looked over her former tribute. She didn't let him shoulder past her, either, so he just took off the earphones and settled them around his neck, crossing his arms over his chest. "What?" he bit out.

"This isn't normal birthday behavior," she said with a raised eyebrow and something like a smirk.

He let out a groan. He was _not_ in the mood for this. "Kate tell you?"

"Tell me what? That you're more angry than usual? I don't need her to tell me that."

He snorted. "I meant—" He waved her off. "I asked her not to tell anyone about the birthday thing. I don't want people sticking their nose in my business." He gave her a pointed look and leaned back a bit. "Going great so far."

"You always get this pissed off on your birthday? Should I mark my calendar and make sure to avoid you one day a year?"

He gave her a dry look. "I'm _fine_ ," he said. "Least I was this morning. Just getting real tired of having to clean up messes that aren't mine is all." He shrugged her off. "Can I go now?"

"Nope." Bobbi blocked his path with a little smirk.

He just sighed and gave her another dry look. "I don't see how it's any of your business anyway. I'm not your tribute anymore, and I don't need a babysitter. Can't a guy shoot things in peace?"

"Not really; that's kind of an oxy-moron, you know?" she pointed out, the smirk still in place.

Clint just shrugged. "Dunno what you can do about it," he said. "Not unless you're inside — and seeing as everyone's so keen on keeping each other's secrets around here, I very much doubt that," he added sullenly.

She walked over and just took the weapon out of his hands and set it aside. "I have found that if I'm having a hard day, I do better to go hand-to-hand," she told him before the smirk turned into a little smile. "Fight me."

"I'm rusty at hand to hand," he admitted.

"Then I'll go easy on you," she said with a smile. "Keep one behind my back just to make it fair."

He smirked at that. "Not that easy," he told her before he walked a little further out, just to get some distance, and settled into a fighting stance.

"I won't use my hands at all," she said, teasing him now as she put both hands behind her back.

"I'd feel bad hitting a lady at a disadvantage like that," Clint said with the beginnings of a smile.

"I don't think you have to worry about that. I'm not at a disadvantage, and you're not gonna hit me."

Clint snorted at that and then made the first move, kicking out with his left foot, since Bobbi wasn't putting her hands up — might as well do the same — though she side-stepped the move and spun around to do what was basically a hip check that almost knocked him off-balance. He had to grin at that, just because it had been a while since he'd had a _good_ spar, and he spun on his heel to face her and throw out a right hook that he knew, with how close she was, she'd have to use her hands to block, just because he _would_ feel weird about fighting a girl with her hands behind her back.

But, she managed to surprise him and blocked not with her hand, but by planting her foot in his stomach and pushing him backward and _grinning_ at him.

"Oh, okay, you were serious," he said, with one eyebrow raised, before he jumped back in, this time with a move that sometimes, if he was lucky, worked on Natasha — a left jab to get her to dodge and a followup shoulder just beneath her own to throw her off balance and get her half bent over so he could plant a second fist in her stomach.

He got the first part down, and the second, but as she went back from the shoulder check, she dropped down and swept his feet out from under him. "Starting to bring it," Bobbi said, still grinning. "Good. Keep it up. Isn't this better than just shooting?"

"Nothing's better than shooting," he countered, though he was smirking.

"I'm going to argue with you on that one. I can think of a couple things." She stepped back and gave him a shrug. "I'd offer you a hand up but …"

He couldn't help but chuckle as he scrambled to his feet and shook his head. "You're seriously gonna keep this up?"

"I _can_ ," she said. "But if you'd feel better, I'll switch back."

"Kinda would make me feel better," Clint admitted with a little grin. "Call it a birthday present — take pity on the archer."

"Oh! I didn't know," she said, looking a bit surprised for a moment before she dropped her shoulders and walked closer, totally relaxed. "You should have told me." She gave him a crooked smile, then grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him over her head.

He let out a grunt when he hit the floor, but he was grinning now and tipped his head back so she could see him laughing at her. "You're a horrible liar."

"But I'm tall, blonde, and pretty. I can get away with it," she countered.

"I am also tall, blonde, and pretty, so your powers have no effect on me," he shot back without moving, still grinning upside down at her before, finally, he rolled onto his stomach and got to his feet and rushed her in what was more or less an inelegant football tackle.

He got her to the ground, but she slipped her feet up and planted them on his hips to launch him again. "You're into flying lessons today, Hawkeye."

"Gotta stick to the branding, Mockingbird. You wanna fly too?" he shot back with a smirk.

"I like to, yes," she said, wide eyed and grinning. "Maybe I'll get you onto the flight simulators if you're good."

"Not what I was thinking, but that sounds fun too," he shot back with a grin to match hers.

She took up a fighting stance and then tossed her hair over her shoulder as she invited him to attack again. He was halfway to her when she took a few running steps and beat him to the punch. From there, it was almost a dance of fast punches and ever faster blocks as they spun and threw elbows and dodges all the way up until Bobbi swept his legs out from under him with one foot and then pivoted up as he was falling to use her other foot to guide him to the ground. When he hit, she flipped him over and pulled him into a pin that kept him from simply kicking her off.

He squirmed for a little while longer until, finally, he just let out a breath of a laugh. "Okay, okay — I give!"

She grinned wider and let him go, offering him a hand up once she'd stepped clear of him. "Feeling any better now?"

He had to smirk a bit as he nodded. "Little bit, yeah. Might be the adrenaline high, though. You pack a punch for someone so blonde and pretty," he teased.

"Well, you know how that is," she said before she just stepped closer and wrapped him up in a tight hug. "Happy Birthday, Hawkeye. Try not to have such a long face."

Bobbi likely hadn't expected him to more or less melt into the hug as he returned it just as tight, and it was a good long time before he finally let her go and cleared his throat. "Yeah, well. Thanks, Bobbi."

"Anytime," she said, her hands still on his shoulders. "You know where to find me."


	18. Red in the Ledger

**Notes: Like we said, we're just cruising along, having a blast, getting closer and closer to the Victory Tour… *bum bum bum* And yeah, O… well. Kurt got a happy birthday with Kate, but let's be real. Logan having a birthday anywhere within 100 miles of Creed…. ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 18: "Red in the Ledger"**

* * *

 _December 12_

 _Briefing Room of Tahiti Wing_

* * *

The kids in Coulson's briefing room glanced around at each other a little surprised, honestly. There had never been a briefing with this many of them at once, and nobody was pointing out — for fear of getting kicked in the shins — that there hadn't been a briefing with both Kate and Kurt in it since they got caught kissing. So something was up.

When Coulson arrived, he took in the looks on the kids' faces and gave them a little smile as he sat down. "Tonight, we're running a multi-faceted operation. Four teams — which is why you're all here right now," he explained, which at least explained the number of kids. Coulson waited a moment before he started to pass out the files of the assignments. "We're going after an organization called the Red Room."

At that, Clint almost instantly picked his head up, eyes wide, before a disbelieving smile broke out. "Bout time, sir," he said, the smile widening even as the other kids looked at him in confusion — some more than others, since not everyone had even heard the name 'Red Room' before, much less knew what it was.

"Ten of us for one group," Sin observed, looking around the table before she smirked openly. "They must be pretty nasty."

"They are," Clint barked before Coulson could answer her, his eyes narrowing to match his sharp tone and gaze.

"You want to share with the rest of the class, Hawkeye-the-Second?" Peter asked with his head tipped to one side. "Because as far as I know, a Red Room is just something that someone with horrible interior design sense paints."

Clint shot a _look_ at Peter before he glanced at Coulson, who was watching him carefully. He let out a sigh and shrugged. "They snatch up vulnerable girls — young girls, or girls whose parents can't afford to feed them, or girls with no family — and they train 'em up to be their own little … slaves, pretty much." He pulled a face and looked down at his hands. "They train 'em up to send 'em to the Games so they can get all that money and power for themselves. Don't really care how many girls die before they get it right, either."

Bruce sounded calm enough, but Clint saw his fists clenching as he spoke. "That's… that's insane. How do they get away with it?"

Clint looked at him levelly. "What, are you new in town? Think Thanos cares? At _all?_ "

"I know _that_. I meant—" He stopped and shook his head. "How many girls have they sent to the Games?"

"I think Nat might be one of the first. Maybe a handful before her at most."

"So when do we kill them?" Sin broke in, the explanation clearly enough for her as her expression hardened.

"It turns out their organization is further-reaching than we realized," Coulson told her patiently. "But we are planning to cripple them — hopefully enough that they won't be able to recover in time to send another girl to die. Not to mention the ones that die in training."

"Good," Carol said, her expression one of loathing as she looked over the information Coulson had given them, nearly matching Sin's.

"You said further reaching than you thought," Kurt said. "How far reaching are they _trying_ to be?"

"They'd like a decent foothold in the Capitol, of course," Coulson told him frankly. "But it looks as though they would also like to have a foothold in every district." He gestured to the files in front of them. "We have SHIELD teams in the Capitol already, and a few in some of the outer districts." Coulson glanced to Clint as he added, "They're trying to spread their influence beyond just the Career districts, but their strongest hold is in Two, which is where most of you will be headed today."

"I'm on that team," Clint said.

"Yes, you are," Coulson agreed. "You'll be heading up the infiltration with Steve and Carol, since my understanding is that you are at least familiar with their location."

The other kids in the room all looked toward Clint, who shrugged lightly. "Trained there a few times, but never in the main facility," he admitted. "I know where it is, though, more or less."

"I thought the Red Room was training up young girls?" Cassie broke in, a bit confused as she scrunched her brow.

Clint waved a hand her way. "Long story. I was in a different group."

"Well, with Clint's girlish good looks," Wade said, fading out a bit.

Clint gave him a bit of a glare. "Yeah, no — my district partner was Red Room. I got my training somewhere else. They brought us in a few times for practice, mostly to teach the girls how to take down bigger opponents."

Bruce glanced over at Sin, who caught his eye. She almost looked jealous of the intense training Natasha would have received. When he frowned at her, she gave him a glare and shook her head, turning her attention back to Clint in time to hear Wade break in.

"OH! So that's where all those longing looks started up… how romantic."

Clint shot him another glare. "Shut up, Wade."

"It's not really a secret, though," Cassie said, looking halfway apologetic. "I mean… the Games were televised. Anybody watching heard you—"

"Yeah, okay, we're not talking about this right now," Clint said, looking a little pink around the ears.

"So you said Clint's taking Carol and Steve," Kate broke in, trying to help Clint out. "What about the rest of us?"

"You and Sinthea will provide backup to Clint's team," Coulson told her. "Sinthea, you're tasked with keeping an eye on the exits to keep the Red Room from escaping, but Kate — I have a specific target for you. His information is in your file."

Kate looked a bit surprised before she quietly thumbed through the guy's information. Sin leaned over in an obvious attempt to sate her curiosity and see who Kate was going after as well. Kurt was a bit more subtle about it, but it was clear the people on either side of Kate had read this guy Ivan's file when both of them were glaring at his picture by the time they were through, especially once they read the "brainwashing specialist" portion of the file.

"Eyes on your own jobs, please," Coulson said pointedly toward Sinthea, who glanced up at him with a little glare before she sat back into her seat and snatched her file, noisily opening it while still glaring at him.

"What about the rest of us?" Peter asked. "I mean, that's five in Two…"

"Wade and Cassie will be going to One. There's a small satellite that has been set up there — it hasn't done terribly well, but after the offerings that One's training rooms had to offer last year, they want to see if there's a solid market for them there. They are _openly_ looking for recruits in One, and they have a certain type in mind," Coulson said, allowing his gaze to rest on Cassie.

She looked a bit wide-eyed at that. "Oh!" She shifted a little in her seat. "Okay."

"Don't worry; Wade will be watching your back. He's from One, and he knows his way around. He also knows who the troublemakers are there to avoid," Coulson said before he took in a deep breath and turned Wade's direction for a moment. "In spite of the fact that he was out of his round of Games early, Wade is scary good with those swords."

"You got that right, big guy," Wade agreed.

"Okay, that's — that's a little less terrifying then," Cassie said with a little smile, though across the room, Bruce looked less sure.

"All you need to do is be in the right place and look adorable and vulnerable," Coulson said. "It's all in your file."

"I've never been bait before," she said with a little smile as she looked down at her file.

"And if you don't want to do it, I completely understand. I can adjust the plan if there's a problem."

"No, no!" Cassie shook her head quickly. "No, it's fine. I'm just a little nervous, but, I mean — I guess that's good, right? Helps with the vulnerable look?" She gave Coulson a nervous smile.

"It really does," he said, nodding his head. "But honestly, out of all our assignments today, yours is probably the safest — the group in One doesn't have the numbers Two's does, and as I said, Wade is excellent backup with those swords."

Meanwhile, Peter was counting off the people in the room with his gaze and leaning forward as he realized that he, Kurt, and Bruce were the last ones.

"Mister Parker," Coulson said before Peter could start with his questioning. "You and Mr. Wagner will be going to the other satellite that has popped up. This one is a bit nastier. They found a niche of orphaned kids, and they have been just kidnapping them outright when they aren't baited with the promise of a place to stay that's _not_ the orphanage."

Peter raised both of his eyebrows but just nodded and glanced at Kurt, who was deeply enmeshed in the file in front of him with a frown. "Got it. Take out the nasty kidnappers," Peter said.

"And make sure that the kids get back to where they belong. Wolves are a problem in the woods this time of year," Coulson said.

"Don't worry," Kurt said, looking up from his file with a new kind of look in his eyes. "We'll make sure they get home."

Bruce looked at Coulson, his glasses rotating in his hands as he waited. "So? You sending me out alone somewhere?"

The agent gave him a grim look. "I'll have to talk to you privately, Mr. Banner."

Sin looked up. "Why?"

Bruce lifted a hand to assure her it was fine and kept his eyes on Coulson. "It's Six, isn't it?" The agent nodded minutely. The young man let out a deep breath. "And it's personal." Again, the almost non-existent nod. "You can tell me in front of my friends."

Coulson took stock of the young man sitting in front of him and inhaled deeply. "And your _family_?"

Bruce gave him a grim look. "This is my family, now. The only one I have."

The agent looked away for a moment before he seemed to get down to business. "A large part of the manipulation of young women is done through the use of terrigen addiction. Even if they get off the drug, the Red Room indoctrination and conditioning. They become indebted emotionally to the very people who introduced them to the drug." His gaze skimmed over the room, coming to rest on Bruce once more. "If we destroy their main production plant, it could be a major advantage."

Sin looked over at Bruce with a frown. "I'll go with him. It was my district too."

"No. We need you where we put you. Bruce can handle this."

Peter looked up from his file, confusion tinting his features. "Hang on. How's it personal, besides being Six?"

Bruce stood and brushed his hands off on his jeans. "My father. He makes the stuff." All heads lifted when he said it. "He's the head chemist working at the biggest plant. Pretty big man in the eyes of… the government." He flexed his fists so hard the knuckles crackled. "Glad to see he's still so concerned with the welfare of the youth…"

The expression on his face caused several of the group to look away. Bruce wasn't one to say a lot about how he felt, and it clearly caused some empathic discomfort among the cadre. Clint, however was the only one to comment, bringing it back to logistics. "So... you'll know where to find the plant."

"Yeah." Bruce exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he took a few steps from the group. "I'll know where to find it." He folded his arms across his chest and stared at Coulson, waiting. The agent lifted his chin and put his shoulders back.

"All of you have pilots in your groups except for Kurt and Peter," Coulson said. "We'll have Ororo fly you to your position — she's a natural with the smaller jets. She's waiting for you in the hangar with her instructor, John Wraith. Mr. Banner, you'll be in a small, two-man flyer with Melinda May. Since you're solo, I want you to have the Cavalry at the ready if you need it, and she's one of the best."

He looked around the group for a moment before he asked, "Are there any questions?" When the kids all shook their heads, Coulson gave them a tight smile. "Then you're all dismissed. Make sure you bring the proper gear — and Kurt, Peter — make sure you dress warmly. The winter weather where you're headed has been particularly frigid this year."

* * *

 _December 12_

 _District One_

* * *

Cassie set the small jet down far outside the bounds of District One so that they didn't attract attention, and once she'd made sure they were well enough camouflaged, she turned to Wade with clear excitement in her eyes and a wide grin. "I don't usually get to do big missions like this," she admitted in half a whisper. "Usually Coulson keeps me to backup teams and piloting the others to their missions." She let out a little giggle. "This is kind of exciting."

"Don't worry, you'll be _great_ ," Wade promised. "We'll be in and out in no time!"

She nodded her agreement with a wide smile. "We'll probably beat the others back," she agreed. With that, she half jumped out of the jet and smoothed out the blouse she was wearing — since she was bait, she wasn't wearing the usual black ops gear, and the outfit had a few creases from the way she had been sitting while she piloted. She smoothed them out and them pulled on the curls in her hair for a moment. "How do I look?" she asked nervously. "Am I bait-y?"

"That … is a loaded question, Cassie Lang," Wade replied, trying and failing to hide the little smile.

"I don't mean it to be," she said with a light laugh and a shrug. "I just mean — well. You know what I mean."

"Oh, I do," he agreed cheerfully. "And the fact that you don't mean it to be makes it work."

"Okay, good. I think." She shot him a cheerful grin before she gestured for him to lead the way into the district since, well, she'd never been to One before, even though it was the closest to the Capitol. Of course, once they were there, he slipped out of sight after he'd pointed her down the right streets — and that was once again helping her very-nervous-little-girl look as she walked down the unfamiliar streets on her own, still occasionally tugging at the edges of her shirt.

"You look lost," said an unfamiliar voice, and Cassie's head popped up when she saw the well-dressed woman standing a bit further down the street. She had a red-lipsticked smile that made Cassie honestly a bit nervous — more than she was before — but Cassie just swallowed and nodded.

"I think I got turned around," she said. "I don't think I've been in this area before — do you know how to get back to the center of town? I can find my way from there, I think."

The woman smiled sweetly at her and didn't answer for a moment as she just watched Cassie nervously shift her feet underneath her. "If you like, I can give you a ride back to town," she said with that same smile. "It's a long walk."

"Yeah, I probably should have turned around sooner," Cassie said with a nervous smile. "Thanks — I hope it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all," the woman said as her smile stretched a bit wider as she took a step back so that Cassie could follow.

Cassie didn't even have to reach into any acting skills to look nervous as she followed the woman, and she was having a hard time doing anything but look at her hands and her feet.

"Are you alone, sweetie?" the woman asked with a smooth tone.

"Yeah, that's how I got lost," she said, still staring at her shoes.

"Well, I'll help you find your place," she said, the smile a bit wider.

"Thanks, really." Cassie tried to bring her gaze up to the woman's and almost managed a smile.

The woman in the red lipstick reached out to take Cassie's hand to pull her along faster, navigating the streets at a quick clip, down alleys and under bridges until they found the hidden entry in the back of a tall brick building.

Once they arrived, Cassie grew steadily more nervous, since she didn't exactly want to go _in_. "Um. Where are we?"

"Just come on inside," she said as her grip tightened a bit on Cassie's hand. "We can make a few calls to figure out where you belong."

Cassie bit her lip. "That's okay," she said as she moved to try and pull her hand away from the woman. "I — I really should go."

The woman's grip was like iron as she just kept smiling at her. "Don't be ridiculous, I can help you," she said. She wrenched open the door and began to pull the little blonde inside.

There was no warning for her, though, as Wade simply dropped down from above, half shouting out 'Stranger Danger!' as he got between the two women and body checked the Red Room recruiter back into the alley. "No means no, crazy lady."

The woman let out a noise of frustration and lashed out at Wade with a move that was clearly taught in the Red Room, since it seemed to come right out of Natasha's playbook, though Wade quickly put a stop to that as he unsheathed his katanas — the long drawn-out sound of the metal swords echoing in the streets even as Cassie rushed to stop the door from closing behind the Red Room recruiter so they could get inside and get to causing the damage they were supposed to be causing. She didn't want to let all that terror of the woman pulling her around go to waste, after all.

Wade jammed the blades into the opening at the door and used them to lever it open, simply rushing in and looking for enough room to get moving. The Red Room didn't quite have the hold they would have liked in One — that much was obvious just from the fact that they only had the one building to their name, but they _did_ have recruits and a few trainers. And those that were far enough into the program to know how simply dove in to attack Wade, though it was clear that not a one of them was very far into the training by the inelegant attack they launched.

On seeing the girls rushing toward him, he reasserted his grip on one of the swords and put the other back into its scabbard, only trying to hold them back — not kill them as they were attempting with him. They would rush in, and he'd block their weapons with the sword, then go on the offensive to try and simply knock them silly.

He was fighting in his own style, and it was something they had no real solid defense for, but the consensus was to try from a distance — and Cassie had to stare for a moment even in the middle of her own fight as the arrows began to rain down on Wade.

His saving grace was quite simply his signature skill. When the order came to 'fire', Wade kicked the girls back that he was fighting and simultaneously drew his second sword, only to turn toward the would-be firing squad and simply start to twirl his swords. The arrows ricocheted off as they reached the swords — or were simply cut to ribbons — the eerie sound of the swords singing through the air setting most of the small group of girls back.

They clearly had never seen anything like this — neither had Cassie, for that matter — and a few of them simply looked ready to turn tail and run, not nearly as loyal to the Red Room as the others who were further into their indoctrination.

For her part, Cassie had made sure the door was tightly bolted so that none of the guys calling the shots could get out while the girls fought Wade, and seeing as Wade seemed to have the situation well in hand, she tried to slip around behind the fight for a little investigative work. In the chaos of the trainers and Red Room higher-ups herding the girls who didn't know how to fight yet and trying to make their own escape, she was able to find an open door and slip inside to find that the reason SHIELD likely didn't know about the Red Room was that their records were all on paper. Unhackable. Stacks of notations and several file cabinets lined the walls, and Cassie let out a little low whistle as she just set to work looking through everything to see if she could skim off the most important stuff.

Then again, what was important — she didn't exactly know. There were some notations on brainwashing by some doctor called Windsor, and there were other files on the girls themselves… Cassie just started to grab some of each kind. Here was one on where they were recruiting… here was one on torture that she looked at for all of three seconds before she felt a little queasy… here was one on trainers….

"What are you doing in here?"

Cassie looked up in alarm at the new voice as she saw the man standing in the doorway looking entirely livid as he took in the ransacked piles of paperwork and the small pile she had stacked on one of the cabinets. She let out a little gasp and dropped the file she was holding.

"I said _what are you doing in here?_ " he bellowed her way.

"I — um — the door was open—" Cassie scrambled to try and come up with something, but her forte had always been the more technical aspects of things. An actress she was not.

He narrowed his eyes and made a rush for her. The struggle was quick and fairly one-sided — and in an instant, he had her wrapped up from behind, her arms pinned and the breath nearly crushed out of her. She barely managed to scrape out a short cry for help before she blacked out, so she missed it entirely when Wade came rushing in to her rescue, positively livid on seeing the little blonde in the state she was.

"Hey! That's _my_ partner, _not yours!_ " Wade shouted before he just rushed the guy. He'd sheathed the swords because — Cassie. But the creep didn't have enough of a chance to defend himself without dropping her — and the moment he did, Wade _did_ draw both blades to make _very_ short work of him.

He put the swords away — again — and very gently picked up Cassie as well as the stack of files that she so obviously had made, since they were the only files in the place that weren't scattered to the winds.

"Any creep that tries anything is going to get a blade to their eye socket!" Wade snarled before he stepped out of the office with Cassie in his arms, bridal style.

He rushed to get them back to their little mini jet, and it wasn't until they were a few blocks out before he started to talk to her to try to get her to wake up, starting out in a normal speaking tone. "Cassie! Cassie La-a-ang, time to wake up," he sang low. "We gotta get out of here, and I am _no_ pilot."

It took him a couple tries, but she finally started to stir awake, though she panicked a bit and hit him in the chest when she did so, clearly still thinking they were back in the Red Room until she recognized the black ops gear and let out a little gasp. "Oh crap! I'm so sorry!" she breathed out, her eyes wide and one hand over her mouth as the shock of having hit Wade woke her up the rest of the way.

"It's okay, sunshine, we're almost back at the jet," he said soothingly.

She glanced around them both to see that they were at the outskirts of the district and then looked a little surprised before she asked, "Did you get the files? I found some stuff — it was really creepy and—"

"I grabbed the stack on the desk," he promised. "If it wasn't in the stack — it's still back there."

She let out a breath and relaxed into him. "Okay, good," she muttered, then glanced around again. "Um. You can put me down if you want."

"Well, I really don't want to," he replied with a little smirk her way.

She glanced up at him and could only see the outline of the smirk behind the black mask they all wore to hide their identity — but still, she blushed a bit. "Oh, okay," she said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear as she held onto his shoulders to try and make it a bit easier for him. "Thanks for the save back there. I didn't hear him coming and I just — I guess I'm not very good at this kind of thing."

"No, no, you're fine," he said. "He was just a creep."

"They're all creeps," she pointed out with a little smile. "That's kind of why we fight them."

"We-ellll he was extra creepy trying to snatch the pretty girl."

"I guess I just looked very much like bait," she said with a small, teasing grin.

"You gotta stop saying that," he said with a little laugh as they came up to the jet.

"But it makes you laugh," she countered, the teasing grin widening.

"You … you are a trouble maker. Please. Continue."

She just giggled delightedly at that and nodded. "Very, very pretty bait, right?" she teased him over the hiss of the hatch to the jet opening as he carried her the rest of the way inside and shut the door.

"You're going the right way for a kiss if you keep it up young lady," he warned waggling one finger at her. "And that is against the _rules._ "

"Yeah, tell that to _Char-les_ ," Cassie sang with a smile. "I've been here two years. I know he's got a lady; I just don't know who yet."

"You gotta be kidding me," Wade said almost breathlessly. "Charlie? _Charlie_ has a lady friend?"

"Yep!" She didn't seem to be in a hurry to get down and pilot them back as she just grinned at him. "Stick with me — I know _all_ the secrets worth knowing."

"Like the super secret kissing hideouts?" he asked with a winning grin once he'd pulled his mask off.

"Well…" She shrugged up one shoulder. "No, not those. I've never needed those before. You'd have to ask Kurt. He's _clearly_ getting kisses somewhere."

"He's clearly getting busted you mean," Wade said. "But it's okay, I don't need his advice." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Think you can fly us home, or did that jerk hurt your head?"

She turned a little pink but shook her head. "No, he just squeezed the heck outta me," she said. "I can still fly." He gently set her down as she tucked her hair behind her ears again. "Alright… let's go home."

* * *

 _December 12_

 _District Two_

* * *

"Can you slow down just … a little bit?" Steve asked. "I know you're in a rush to get this over with, but come on."

Clint looked over his shoulder at Steve for a moment as Carol gave him almost an identical look from the cockpit. "No," Carol said before they both turned back to the controls, and Sin snickered a little bit at the way Steve's shoulders scrunched up in annoyance at that before Kate grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him into his seat.

"There's no traffic cops up here," she told Steve with a raised eyebrow. "And no backseat drivers for that matter. Just sit down."

"They fly like maniacs," Steve said quietly.

"I think you're just scared of flying," Sin said as she examined her fingernails disinterestedly.

"No, I'm just now starting to understand why Coulson wanted us to do paratrooper classes," Steve said dryly.

"You're such a drama queen," Kate said, rolling her eyes at Steve before she leaned forward with a slightly quieter tone. "Besides, lay off Clint. This is personal." She gave Steve a significant look before she sat back against the wall of the jet with her head tipped back and her fingers trailing over the feathers of the quiver strapped to her leg. Even though she'd be on a rifle for this one, she always, _always_ brought a quiver and bow for backup — just in case.

Steve crossed his arms and shot her a bit of a look but wisely kept his mouth shut up through the rest of the flight, even when he was half white-knuckled through Carol and Clint's landing in the desert mountains behind a rocky outcropping that would give them some cover.

"There's plenty of caves and outcroppings around here, so watch your back," Clint told them as they got out of the jet. "I only know a couple of the exits, so Sin, you got your work cut out for you. Find and block as many as you can, so we can try and herd 'em Katie's way."

"Yeah, yeah, we got it," Sin said, waving her hand at Clint as she headed off to go search through the caves.

"Keep radio contact — and keep to the code names!" Steve half shouted after her.

"Yeah, yeah," was the response from Sin as she was already halfway into the rock crevice, and Kate just snorted.

"Good luck, guys," she said before she headed off as well to take up her position to cover the exit they _did_ know about, the one they were supposed to funnel the Red Room operatives toward.

Carol couldn't help but smirk as she bumped Steve's shoulder with hers. "Aww, don't worry, Cap. You'll get them in line sooner or later."

"You're not helping," he said dryly her way.

"Come on, let's just get this over with," Clint said, halfway bouncing on the balls of his feet before he led the way through the red-streaked mountains. There wasn't much in the way of cover for as dusty and dry as the place was, and Carol and Steve found that they had to stick close behind Clint, since he seemed to know where there were crevices to hide — and those were few and far between and pretty well-hidden as well.

They'd been following Clint in silence for about half an hour before he pulled up short and motioned for their attention, pointing at a rock formation that jutted out almost like a platform. "Did a couple fights up there," he explained in a low tone. "You know — up the ante. If you weren't careful, you got pushed off the edge. There's an entrance inside."

"Sounds charming," Sin said with a smirk over the radio.

"Oh yeah, real bird's eye view. You shopping for your home after this is all over?" Clint muttered back over the comms.

"Only if I can push you off it," she shot back.

"You can try," Clint said, shaking his head, before he turned his attention to the other two. "Rock face is pretty well smoothed out to make it harder to climb back up if you lost and survived, so we're gonna have to use a rope," he explained. "You two decent at climbing, or should I haul you up?" he added as he was already tying a long rope to the end of one arrow.

"Just make sure you anchor it well," Carol said with a little smirk that Clint returned before he fired off the arrow, and it embedded itself deeply in the rock face above them.

"Ladies first," he said, motioning to Carol, who gave him a bit of a look before she started climbing.

Carol made it up the rope in record time, and when Clint and Steve did catch up to her, she was smirking. "Need a breather?"

"We're fine," Steve said, shaking his head at her.

"I'm just glad it was ladies first," Carol said. "I'd have been mad if I was stuck behind you waiting for you two to get out of my way."

"View'd be nice though," Clint said with a grin her way as he poked his head around the entrance to the outcropping to check for any sign that they'd been spotted. When there was no rush of Red Room operatives to detain them, he nodded to himself and jerked his head to indicate to the other two to follow him before he rushed to the door to break through the lock.

Once they got inside, both Carol and Steve dropped a bit of the teasing, though, when they saw how sprawling the facility hidden in the mountains really was. It was much bigger than the training and living facilities of the Tahiti program, with entire rooms dedicated to just one kind of weapon, extremely specialized.

"C'mon, this is just the training stuff. This time of year, they'll be rewatching the Games and critiquing it ahead of the tour," Clint said as he gestured for them to follow him, seemingly unfazed by the rooms and rooms of weapons — or the fact that all of them smelled faintly of bleach that told the other two they were kept clean and pristine _often_.

They saw their first sign of movement a little further down the hall right about the same time Clint started to slow down as it was clear that, outside of the training facilities, this was unfamiliar territory for him. A woman in high heels with sharp edges to her glasses perched high on her nose was walking down the hallway, and the three Tahiti operatives pressed themselves to the shadows as they watched her pass and then enter one of the rooms. They only caught a brief glimpse of the interior of the room, but it was to show an entire class full of girls sitting up straight as boards as they watched the footage of Natasha's death.

Carol let out a little shudder as Steve looked frankly creeped out, though Clint just looked _mad_ as they pressed on down the hallway, with Carol starting to set down charges so they could destroy the facility once they'd started up with the mayhem.

It was more a credit to the Tahiti training than anything else that the three of them got as far into the facility as they did before an alarm sounded, and as soon as the Red Room operatives started to pour out in full attack mode, Clint called over to Carol, "Light 'em up. _Now_."

The resulting explosion from the charges wasn't enough to level the place like they'd hoped, but it did bring down a couple walls that cut off an entire hallway of girls from coming after the three of them as they charged forward and bashed their way through anybody in their path.

Their focus wasn't on the girls themselves but on trying to find the trainers, though of course, that was difficult to do when there were so many highly-trained operatives there. Unlike in One, these girls knew how best to kill and fight, and they had been watching and rewatching so many Games that they just didn't hesitate to go for the worst damage, taking full advantage of the fact that the three intruders were trying to get past them, not through them.

Clint was the one to spot a guy who was clearly in charge — and when the creep looked over his shoulder and Clint got a look at his face, that cemented it for him as he recognized the picture from Kate's file — even if he'd only seen the image upside down and from across the table.

"Be right back," Clint called out as he switched gears from fighting alongside Steve and Carol to just trying to end this guy, half because he didn't want Kate to have to kill more than she had to and half because this guy was in charge of brainwashing at the place that had screwed up Nat.

Of course, when the guy saw that Clint had spotted him and was clearly targeting him, he took off at a run, and Clint growled out his frustration when the guy reached for the comm on his shoulder to call for help, too.

"Oh, no you don't," Clint muttered under his breath as he poured on the speed, working his bow faster than he'd ever done it before as he just stopped caring about who he was shooting or what kind of damage was being dealt as long as he got to that creep and ended him.

The guy had a pair of lieutenants on either side of him as they rushed for the exit — and, at least, it was the right exit, where Kate was waiting to take the shot, but they were doing a good job of covering him, and Clint finally managed to catch up enough to get a clear shot.

He lined up the three arrows between his fingers — one for each of them — and let them fly just before they got out the door, and there were three distinct, and very satisfying, shouts that told Clint he'd hit all three of them.

"We should call _him_ Trickshot," Sin muttered, letting the others know that she was close enough to have seen the shot.

"You can take it up with Logan when he finds out we're all alive," Kate said over the comms. "Good luck with that."

With his adrenaline pounding in his ears, Clint rushed out to see that all three of the guys had stumbled, badly injured but still half shoving Ivan into a transport.

And then there was another cry, as the guy next to Ivan crumpled — Kate had taken him out to get him out of her way of her shot at Ivan. Clint strung another arrow, and Kate took a shot — but both of them were just slightly too slow as Kate could only get a nonlethal shot as Ivan was pulled down into safety — and Clint just hit the door of the transport and swore loudly.

There was another rumble from deeper inside the facility as Kate took a fruitless shot at the departing transport, and Steve and Carol set off a few more charges, and Clint just kept right on swearing as he turned back around to help demolish the rest of the place with his partners — or at least get them out before it came tumbling down around their ears.

When he caught up to the other two, they were holding their own well enough, but they were frankly outnumbered, and judging from the state of the hallways, Carol was running low on explosives. So when Steve caught sight of Clint, he just jerked his head toward the door Clint had just left. "Let's get out of here."

Carol swept the legs out from underneath a girl who was trying to flip her before she nodded Steve's way, and both of them took off at a run as Carol tossed one of her last explosives over her shoulder to give them a little space.

The three of them burst out of the doorway, and Steve slammed it behind them and jammed it before he turned to the other two as they caught their breath. "Sin — extraction?" he half-panted.

"On the way," she replied, and a few moments later, they caught sight of the small black-clad figure picking her way over the rocks with Clint's rope arrow in her hand.

She half shoved it into his chest upon her arrival. "You lost this," she told him, and he just had to shake his head at her before he double-checked to make sure the rope was secure and fired it up into the rockface well above the door, where he knew there would be more cover for their escape. The four of them had only just made it up and pulled the rope after them before the Red Room operatives got the doors open, with smoke pouring out from the inside.

There was a cry — and the woman with the sharp glasses crumpled as Kate said over the comms, "I got you covered. Get back to the jet, and I'll just practice my aim."

They didn't wait for any further invitation before they took off, half bent over in the sharp bushes that were common to the area until they finally made their way back to where Carol and Clint had hidden the jet, torn up from the underbrush as well as the actual fight itself.

They had to wait another ten minutes or so before Kate caught up to them, and when she did, she looked downright disappointed. "If his creep friends hadn't gotten in the way, I'd've had him," she muttered sullenly as she climbed into the jet. "Sorry, Clint."

"It's fine," he said in a tone that indicated it was _not_. "Wasn't your fault."

"Yeah it was," Kate said with a raised eyebrow, but Clint didn't seem to be listening anymore as he just climbed into copilot next to Carol, and Carol spared him a glance before they took off in dead silence, nobody quite willing to say anything when Clint looked like that.


	19. Sugar and Spice

**Chapter 19: "Sugar and Spice"**

…

 _December 12_

 _District Seven_

…...

Peter and Kurt couldn't help but share smiles as they watched the activity in the cockpit as Ororo navigated the landing in the mountains under Wraith's instructions — though Ororo honestly seemed annoyed by his reminders. It was clear she understood how to fly well enough on her own, and she didn't like being told the same things over and over.

"Are you two going to be warm enough while we're gone?" Kurt asked, breaking into their back and forth with a little smile.

"Yeah, this thing has heating," Ororo pointed out as she spared him a small glance before putting her attention back to finishing up the landing procedures — finally letting out a sigh and leaning back when they were finished. "Don't you two freeze out there. It's supposed to snow again in a few hours, so get back here before then. I _don't_ know how to fly in a snowstorm. Yet."

"If it comes down to it?" Wraith said easily. "We're just going to have to settle in and hope we aren't stuck here all winter. When that snow comes off the mountain, it's nasty."

"Yes, that would be a shame," Kurt said quietly as Peter just couldn't _not_ smirk at the tone of his voice.

"Don't worry — we've got our coats on, and we won't go outside with wet hair, and we won't get colds. We'll drink plenty of water and be home in time for supper," Peter said in a sing-song voice as he and Kurt headed out the hatch of the jet, though on stepping out into the frigid air, he half gasped and quickly understood why they had the winter gear.

"We better get moving before we freeze to the spot," Peter said, shivering already.

Kurt just nodded as he looked over the coordinates that Coulson had given them in their briefing material. "Don't let Ororo catch you saying things like that or you'll get frozen spider jokes all the way back home," he teased as he led the way around the outskirts of town.

The coordinates were actually fairly close to the main part of the district, and the two boys could see the people of District Seven in their daily routines — coming in from a hard day's work, buying food, chatting with friends. Even with the jokes about being frozen to the spot, neither of them could resist pausing to watch for a moment and hoping to catch sight of their favorite Games victor — though when they didn't see him, they had to move on before night hit and it _really_ got cold.

They avoided being seen while skirting through the trees all the way to the drying building that the cut lumber and logs were stored in. It was the perfect place for this tiny faction of Red Room creeps to stage from simply because no one guarded the building at all and it was far enough from the town and houses that any scuffle or screams that happened there would never make it to anyone listening.

"Oo-kay," Peter said as he and Kurt made their way over and peeked in one of the windows. "This place already creeps me out. Does it creep you out? Because it really, it just — this is a villainous _lair_ , Kurt."

"I'm not sure all this wood counts as a villainous lair," Kurt replied.

"It just _feels_ ominous. Like the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up." Peter let out a shudder and then stood to stretch out his limbs as Kurt scouted them a way into the place.

When they got around to one of the lower windows, they could see that there were about a dozen very small little girls huddled in a corner looking positively terrified. Both boys shared a glance when they saw the scene — they _had_ to get those girls out, and fast.

"Well, we know where we need to go," Kurt said, his eyes narrowed when he saw the state of the girls. "Now ... how to get there…."

But it was Peter that spotted a way in. Up high, well above them, was a window that was partly opened. "I think I can get up there," Peter said with a frown as he sized up both the height and distance.

Kurt followed Peter's gaze for a moment and then matched his expression. "Need a boost?" he offered.

"Um," Peter said, looking up and down the length of the building. "Maybe a little one. If I can reach the upper edge of that window sill …"

"Say no more," Kurt said with a nod as he offered Peter a literal leg up so he could get a good grip and start climbing.

"Oooh, this brick is really cold," Peter said as he tried to hurry up the wall.

"Everything here is really cold," Kurt said with a smirk below him.

"Yeah, I know. Frostbite Falls of Marvel. Noted," Peter said dryly as he made the quick rush the last few lengths. "I just want to get there before I lose feeling in my fingers." He slipped almost right after the words left his mouth, catching himself after falling a few feet down the side of the building, though when he did catch himself, he didn't dare look down to see how far he had left to fall.

Instead, Peter bit his lip and tried to go back up more carefully, slowly checking his fingerholds and testing his toeholds until he could pull himself into the open window and drop a rope down to Kurt.

It was another few moments before Kurt climbed in after him, shaking his head. "We need a different exit — you nearly gave me a heart attack, Peter."

"Yeah, that was not my favorite part either," Peter admitted as he looked around the room they were standing in that looked like an office of some kind.

Kurt went to the door to poke his head out for a moment before he closed it again and looked to Peter. "We're above where they're keeping the kids, but I think this is where the ones in charge are," he said, tipping his head to the side. "There's a room down the hall."

"So … what do we do first? Or do we split up?"

Kurt seemed to consider it for a moment before he drew his swords as a means of responding. "If they're contained to that one room, I think I can handle the adults. We need to get those kids _out_ of here."

"Okay then. So. Kids and an exit. Got it. I can do that."

Kurt just nodded Peter's way before the two of them slipped out of the door, Kurt headed down the hall and Peter for the wooden staircase close by as he tried to resist the urge to _shush_ his footsteps out loud all the way down.

Peter knew precisely when Kurt had burst into the room with the trainers because of the shouts that went up. The sound of it clearly had the little girls down below nervous as he abandoned trying to be quiet now that Kurt had distraction pretty well covered. He rushed down the rest of the stairs to where the girls were and crouched down beside them. He tried his very best not to look like a secret ninja-esque assassin here to kill them all or something.

"Hi kids! You want to get away from the creeps that took you and go back home?" Peter asked as brightly as he could while trying to break into the makeshift corral that they were locked in. "Please say yes, because … that's like. The whole reason I'm here."

A couple of the girls still looked wary of their black-clad rescuer, but a little blonde toward the front regarded him with wide eyes for a moment. "Not everybody has a home you know," she said with a frown. "So how you gonna do that, mister?"

Peter just kind of paused for a minute and looked at her, trying to think of a way to answer her. "Well," he said finally, very slowly. "I guess we'll have to take you somewhere warm where we can _find_ you a home. Buncha sweet kids like you — shouldn't have any trouble."

"Not another place like this," said a little redhead half-hiding behind the blonde girl.

"Um, I said warm?" Peter replied. "And hopefully not creepy at all — because this place? Total creepshow."

That had a couple of the girls nodding, and one of them giggled, so when Peter finally got the corral open, a few of them rushed him with little sniffles and hugs, very relieved to be rescued.

He had just about all of them out when there was a commotion up above them as Kurt's fight spilled out into the main hall. Peter and the kids glanced up to see that Kurt had his blades locked with a tall woman with long, black hair, and she was keeping pace with his every stroke. Peter was just about to call out to his friend when the woman managed to kick Kurt back, and Kurt's feet hit the edge, teetering for just a moment before he went over and fell in a clatter onto the floor just behind the group of girls.

"Oh no!" the little blonde exclaimed before she rushed forward and tried to assess his situation. "Are you okay?" she asked, trying to 'wake him up' with light little slaps to his chest.

Kurt picked his head up and looked at the little girl for a moment, still a bit disoriented before he quite understood what she was doing. When he pulled it together, he very gently put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm alright," he told her quietly as he rolled over to push himself to his feet, with the little blonde doing her very best to help him get upright.

"Come on," Peter called out. "They're headed down the stairs, and I don't know which way to go."

"They always come in this way," the little blonde said, pulling on Kurt's hand to get him to follow her, and the boys shared a look before they just shrugged — they didn't had any better options, anyway.

To both Kurt and Peter's surprise, the little girls tried to help cover their exit, throwing anything they could get their hands on toward the tall swordswoman catching up to them. It didn't do much, but they appreciated the effort all the same. Clearly, they made little girls tough in Seven.

"Can you lead the others out with my friend?" Kurt asked the little blonde holding his hand when it was clear they needed a little more time.

She brushed her hair out of her face and blinked up at him a few times as she nodded with a bright "mmm hmm" before she took Peter's hand and pulled on him instead.

While Peter and the little blonde quickly led the girls out, Kurt turned back to the swordswoman with both blades raised, his gaze raking over the room for something that might help him. He was still hurting from the fall, and he knew he couldn't take her when he was still so winded, so…

He had just made his decision when the woman met him with her sword drawn, and he had to bring both up in order to block her. The sharp sound of metal on metal elicited a few gasps from the little ones behind him even as Peter urged them all forward. His arms shook a bit with the effort to hold her back. She bared her teeth at him as it was clear she knew she had the upper hand, and Kurt let her drive him back, closer and closer to the logs.

"Come on!" Peter called out. "We're cleared!" He turned to the girls and told them to find a spot and hunker down for a few minutes until Kurt could come out while Peter looked for something to use for a weapon in case Kurt needed back up.

But as soon as Kurt heard that Peter and the girls were clear, he switched tactics entirely. He fell into a full-on retreat that had his opponent smiling wide as she moved to press her advantage — a moment before Kurt slashed out with one of his swords to cut the bindings holding the logs in place.

He only barely dodged out of the way of the logs himself, but the woman was not so lucky, as the whole bundle simply _crushed_ her. More than a little wide-eyed, Kurt ran to Peter with his heart pounding and his ears ringing slightly with the _noise_ of the small indoor landslide he'd caused.

"Don't _do that!_ " Peter shouted as Kurt caught up to him. "I fall six inches and you take down a _building_? What kind of payback is that?"

Kurt just shrugged and grinned at his friend — the smile obvious even through the fabric of his mask. "Well, I had to cover our escape _somehow_."

Peter just gaped at him for a moment before he threw his arms up, walked a small circle and just made a few noises of pure disbelief. When he finally got over the shock, he stopped and called out to the girls. "Okay kids, let's get away from the creepy death trap building."

The girls all nodded their fervent agreement at that as the little blonde leader came running up to Kurt to grab his hand again, clearly looking him over to make sure he was still okay after all that.

"Why are you hiding if you're good guys?" she asked him, gesturing at their all-black getup.

"Well," Kurt said carefully, "we don't want the bad guys to know who we are."

"Okay. I guess that makes sense," she said slowly before she relaxed her posture ever so slightly. "I'm Elsie."

"Hello, Elsie," he said warmly, crouching down to be at her level. "Is it alright if I tell you I can't give away my secret name?"

"That's okay, I guess," she said before she just darted forward and threw her arms around his neck in a hug. "Where are we goin'?"

"We want to take you all back home," Kurt told her kindly. "Is that alright with you?"

"I don't _have_ a home," she said seriously, her hands on her hips. "But I have somewhere to go." She let her voice fall to a whisper. "I have a friend."

"Then why don't you help us take anyone who wants to go home back where they belong — and then we'll find your friend, _ja_?" Kurt asked.

She giggled at his little touch of German and just nodded her head. "Okay. I'll show you where to go."

"You're in charge, Elsie," Kurt told her as he straightened up and let her take his hand again to lead the way around the district.

The little girls moved fast, and a few of their parents were easily heard from the snowy street when they found their missing daughters as they came inside from the frozen night. They kept to skirting around the houses, content to just let the happy reunions take place without their interference, but when they hit the last one, there were still five little girls that said they had nowhere to call home.

"It's okay, mister," Elsie said, patting Kurt's arm reassuringly. "My friend will make sure we get to stay warm."

"You must have a very nice friend," Kurt said with a smile as Elsie led the way a little further toward the outskirts of town, where the houses were noticeably nicer.

But when they arrived, Kurt lost a bit of the smile and fell into more of a shocked expression as Elsie pointed them into what was clearly the Victor's Village.

"Your friend lives here?" Peter asked, the surprise evident in his tone.

"He doesn't like it very much," she said, shaking her head.

"Elsie, what's your friend's name?" Kurt asked carefully. "Can you tell us?"

She just grinned up at him and nodded. "Everybody knows that. His name is Logan. He's been nice to me since I was little."

Both of the boys just had to stop and glance at each other. "That… yeah," Peter said, nodding. "He's a nice guy," he added as it was clear he just… didn't know what to do.

But Kurt was just grinning a little more and more as he realized that in giving them the mandate to get the girls home, SHIELD had all but _handed_ them the chance to say hello to their old friend. "We'd like to meet him," Kurt said, and he blatantly ignored the clear double-take Peter was giving him.

"Okay, but we don't use the front door," she said slowly. "Not with Mr. Creepy over there."

Kurt and Peter both nodded their agreement at that. "Oh yeah. We should definitely use the back door," Peter agreed as Elsie Dee led the way around.

They followed Elsie's lead down what looked like a fairly well-worn trail — if you knew where to look, that is. It wound through a few trees and clearly seemed to be a path that little kids would make before it finally spit them out at the stairs that led up to a large, sprawling deck … and an unlocked back door.

The five little girls seemed to make themselves right at home in Logan's house. They stomped their feet off as they entered the room and kicked off their worn boots before they rushed off to pull out blankets from half a dozen different cubbies, shelves, and closets.

It was importable for Kurt to hide his disappointment, however, when he realized that Logan wasn't home.

As for Peter, though, watching the girls rifle through the place to pull out what appeared to be their 'favorite' blankets seemed to be permission enough for him to start nosing around the place, peering in cabinets and bedrooms… Halfway through, he had to shake his head and announce that this place was "way too cute and picket fence-y for our stabby friend."

"It's okay," Elsie said as she pulled a blanket up to her nose where she was snuggling up on the couch with her best friend, a tiny redhead with freckles across her nose. "If he doesn't come by, Heather will tomorrow morning."

"Who's Heather?" Peter asked before he could stop himself, the curiosity way too much to ignore.

"She's Mister Mac's wife," the little redhead replied. "She likes to cook for us — and she likes to make sure Logan eats something more than meat all the time."

"And I bet she knows she can find cute little girls like you here where it's safe and warm, right?" Peter asked with a widening grin.

"Only sometimes," Elsie said with a little yawn. "She said no one would bug us here."

"That's definitely true," Peter said, still unable to stop shaking his head as he took in the big log house.

"Are you sure you'll be alright here on your own?" Kurt asked. "We can start a fire for you," he offered, again ignoring the look he was getting from Peter.

"That would be nice," Elsie said. "It's a little cold in here."

Kurt nodded and set to work building a fire for the little girls, and Peter let out a breath before he rushed to help him, their days of working together to do just this in the Games finally paying off a little as it didn't take them long at all to get a roaring fire started.

For a moment, Peter was just quiet, knowing his friend was now trying to come up with another reason to stay at the house, so he just nudged Kurt in the ribs — lightly, since he knew Kurt was probably hurting after that fall. "Hey, did you notice the books?"

Kurt looked up at Peter, and even with the mask on, Peter knew it was a 'what' kind of expression, so he just grinned. "C'mon. They're all in some other language. Well, like, half of them are. I'll show you," he said as he dragged Kurt to his feet as took him to where the bookshelves were lined with books — and as he'd said, about half of them were in Japanese.

Kurt gently took one of the books off the shelf to look through it, shaking his head. "I didn't know he spoke… or read, well, _any_ other language," he said.

"Yeah, well, with Mr. Creepy down the street, I'd stay in and read half the time too," Peter muttered as he looked over the books as well.

Kurt's gaze fell on one of the books in English — a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories — and he paused for just a moment before he saw a pen and some paper nearby and grabbed it to scribble a quick "on loan" before he folded the unsigned note up and set it in place where the book had been.

"Should you really be doing that?" Peter asked.

"I'll give it back when I see him," Kurt defended.

"Uh-huh. Which is in an hour or two if you have your way," Peter said. He turned in a small circle as if he was honestly looking for Logan before he sighed. "He's not here, Kurt, and there's a storm coming in, and…" He trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. "I miss him too, I get it, but we're gonna get stuck. And in trouble."

"Well I know someone who lets strays stay in their living room," Kurt said in a totally even and reasonable tone. "He might even think we rate a bedroom if we play our cards right."

Peter just looked at his friend for a long moment before he scrubbed his face with both of his hands. "So… what do you think he has to eat around here?" He headed off to the kitchen and ended up picking up a couple little girl followers as they seemed to be interested in what their 'secret good guy' friend was making for dinner.

"You guys get done yet? We're running out of time," came Wraith's voice over the radio as Kurt was in the back room getting blankets for the girls.

"We're, ah, we're taking care of the girls that got grabbed," Peter replied from the kitchen as he heated up the dinner he'd found in the fridge. "We still need time."

"Well make it quick. Storm and I are going to freeze solid if this keeps up."

"Oh yeah, that's — uh — that's a problem. Okay," Peter said, though Kurt didn't look like he was showing any signs of packing up to leave as he set up sleeping arrangements for the kids.

"I can't tell them that you died or were captured by little girls," Peter pointed out in one more attempt to reason with his friend.

"No, don't tell them I died," Kurt said without a hint of irony. "Kate would be upset." He paused and started to grin behind the mask. "But captured by little girls is entirely true, you know."

"C'mon, Kurt," Peter said.

"It's his army of little girls," Kurt teased. "I was overwhelmed."

"Yeah, this from the guy who dropped half a building on the lady with the sword," Peter muttered, shaking his head. "Come on. We don't even know if he'll be home before they run out of fuel."

"You don't have to wait for _us_. We'll be fine. Logan was gone for almost a week last time," Elsie said quietly. "After Mr. Creepy got mean with him."

Peter and Kurt glanced at each other at that, and Kurt crouched down next to her. "What happened with Mr. Creepy?" he asked.

Elsie frowned and looked very serious for a moment. "Heather and Mac said he didn't want Logan around anymore."

Both boys shared a wordless glance before they turned back to Elsie. "So Logan left for a week?" Peter asked with a frown. "That doesn't sound like him."

"No," she said shaking her head. "Mac had to get him a helicopter ride to the Capitol."

Peter and Kurt both looked steadily more worried at that report as Kurt tried to swallow down the concern in his voice. "But he's alright now?" he asked.

"He was okay when he went into the woods this morning," she said without the least bit of concern.

"Ah, so he's just in the woods, not in the Capitol," Kurt surmised. "What on earth is he doing out there? It's very cold."

"He's hunting."

"Of course he is," Peter said, shaking his head. "So he might be a few days, then? Is that what you're saying?" He looked toward Kurt, even though the question was directed to Elsie.

"Probably," she said.

Peter ruffled Elsie's hair. "Thanks, Elsie. Do you think you could help set the table?" he asked her.

She nodded and hopped up off the couch to scamper into the kitchen, pulling everything out for the little group — since she told them that 'it's my job usually'.

Peter and Kurt waited until Elsie was well into her job before Peter turned to Kurt with a half-pleading look clear even under the mask. "Come on, Kurt. We're gonna get stranded here, and Wraith and 'Ro are going to—"

"And he could freeze to death alone out there in the woods," Kurt replied.

Peter stopped and looked at Kurt with eyes wide behind the fabric. "Yeah, but, this is _Logan_ we're talking about. That's not — he's not gonna go out like _that_."

"You know how cold it is out there?" Kurt asked. "Look at the thermometer out the window. Twenty five below."

Peter followed Kurt's gaze and just shifted his weight back and forth from foot to foot. "So what — should we go after him?"

Kurt just shrugged. "Does the jet have thermal cameras?"

"We can always ask," Peter said, brightening up a bit.

Kurt looked to the little girls for a moment. "Are you sure you'll be alright here?"

"This isn't our first time here," Elsie said, shrugging up one shoulder with a look that clearly said she wasn't at all concerned. "Heather checks in every morning when it's cold and he's out hunting."

"Then she'll know you're here tomorrow morning," Peter said. "Great!" He turned his attention back to Kurt. "C'mon, Kurt. We can check on him in the jet. And we'll come back sometime later so you can return your book, okay?"

Kurt still looked as if he simply didn't want to go, but with a sigh, he finally nodded his head. "I guess we can't leave the Goddess waiting."

Peter just draped an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Next time," he promised. "I mean, we know where he lives now. _And_ we know where his back door is. We'll catch him next time."

With a sigh, Kurt nodded, and the two of them slipped back out the back door into the cold to make their way back to the jet.

 **Notes: And the takedown of the Red Room continues. It's too epic to be contained to just one chapter, guys.**


	20. You Can't Go Home Again

**Notes: And we continue in our quest to rid this universe of the Red Room. It's not a full purge but… well. We tried. Also, there is shipping. Some of which surprises even the characters involved! And of course, all praise goes to Miran Anders for her continuing excellence as Bruce Banner. We live in awe of you, my dear.**

* * *

 **Chapter 20: You Can't Go Home Again**

* * *

 _December 12_

 _Briefing Room_

* * *

Bruce sat down in Agent Coulson's office and stretched his neck restlessly. As usual, the agent noticed, looking up from his mission folder.

"You alright?"

"I can do this."

"I didn't say you couldn't. I asked if you were alright." The faint smile that followed the comments left Bruce feeling sheepish.

"Right. Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine."

They looked at each other for a long moment before Coulson responded, "Of course you're not."

Bruce gave a resigned nod. "Of course I'm not."

"But you can do this. Do you still want to?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright, then. Good." Coulson leaned forward and hit a button on his intercom. "Agent May?"

The door opened, and Agent Melinda May walked in, moving like a serpent wrapped in black leather. Bruce had heard about her, but they hadn't formally met. She sat in the second guest chair and crossed her legs, her long, angular movements reminding him of nothing more than a praying mantis sizing up dinner.

"Agent May, this is Bruce Banner. Bruce, Agent May will be your transport and backup if necessary."

Bruce looked at the woman, studying her face. She gave away nothing. No smile, no frown. An amazing study in stoicism, and starkly beautiful. He also realized that she was studying him just as thoroughly.

Agent Coulson cleared his throat. "Let's go over a few things. Bruce, you say you know the location of the factory, correct?" Bruce nodded. "Good. We'll be sending explosives along with you, but this whole project will be better off if you can make it look like an accident. Is that possible?"

"That depends. What kind of explosives?"

Coulson nodded back to his notes. "It's a modified version of C4. The residue should appear to be from some of the more volatile segments of the terrigen production."

Bruce nodded absently. "Ethyl Alcohol? Toluene?"

Coulson looked at the file again, and spun the paper to face Bruce. "You tell me."

The younger man slipped his glasses from the neck of his shirt, tipping his head to the side thoughtfully as he read through the chemical formulas. "Yeah… okay. It'll leave traces of acetone… I see methanol, here, too, but that should be fine, knowing him. He never was good with his hydrogen balances. Can I see those blueprints again?"

Coulson turned the rest of the folder around, and Bruce traced his fingertip across the diagrams, mumbling quietly to himself and nodding. He didn't notice Coulson and May looking at each other over his shoulder. May frowned, and Coulson shrugged.

"Yeah. If he's still running it the way he has been… his lab… there's plenty there to start a problem. The process itself is pretty unstable at points. Yeah. This can work." A thought seemed to occur to him. "There won't be anyone in there, right?"

"We picked this day and time to minimize foot traffic, in or near the factory."

"What about the late shift?"

Coulson looked annoyed. "The factory put its late shift on leave."

Bruce frowned back at him. "Why?"

"To reduce supply, increase demand, and jack up the cost. They do it every few months."

Banner shook his head. "Son of a… "

"Yes. Indeed." The older man picked up a tablet and handed it to Bruce. "This has more information than you'll probably need. Supplies are in the jet. It's small, but Agent May could probably fly an elephant in under the radar." For a moment, Bruce thought he saw a glint of pride in the woman's eyes, before she turned and hit him with a direct stare.

"Coulson says you can do this on your own. True?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly. "I think so." That earned him a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Good. You're not over-confident."

He barked a quiet laugh. "No. Not usually."

She stood up from the chair with a nod, Bruce rising a second later. "Alright. Let's go do this."

* * *

Half an hour later, Bruce Banner stood in his bedroom and looked at the mirror. He couldn't quite place the guy who was looking back at him.

The man in the mirror wore black pants and boots, a snug black shirt, and a black zipped jacket. Draped from his hand was the classic hood that they all wore on missions. He frowned at himself, then quickly pulled the hood on and looked again.

Suddenly anonymous, he was able to evaluate the man in the mirror more objectively. He was trim, and looked more muscular in the snugly fitting mission outfit than he did in his usually loose fitting shirts. Frankly, he looked… good. Strong. Confident. It made him uneasy.

Abruptly shaking his head and pulling off the hood, Bruce gave himself one more disparaging look, chuckling at his own discomfort, pushed a hand back through his hair several times, and headed out to the hanger.

Once he got there, the small, two-person flyer had Bruce totally distracted. He looked at it like he just wanted to take it apart and put it back together again, maybe better.

"This thing is…amazing."

"She does the job." May settled into the cockpit and motioned for him to get in as she ran her preflight check.

He stopped to stare at the controls as he clambered in. "What kind of distance can she handle?"

May reached into a side compartment and tossed a manual at him. "Here. C'mon. We're burning daylight."

"I thought it was supposed to be dark when we get there," he responded, buckling in.

"It's a figure of speech and you know it, smartass. From your file, I thought you'd recognize Shakespeare from a mile off."

Bruce exhaled a laugh as he opened the book and skimmed through specs. "Fair."

"Make yourself comfortable; we've got a bit of a ride."

* * *

The flight went by faster than Bruce thought it would. He spent most of the time staring out into the night sky that started out full of stars and slowly faded to a cloudy, charcoal gray. Before he was quite ready, they came in for a hovered landing just beyond the forested edge of the district, and the pilot turned to look at him.

"This is your stop, Banner. You ready?"

Bruce took a deep breath and blew it out. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready." He grabbed the knapsack of tools and modified C4 and stepped out into the night.

"Hey."

He turned to look back. "Yes?"

Agent May favored him with a rare half-smile. "You're going to be fine. You're smart. You can do this." She reached over and handed him his com link. "And you should probably take this with you. Call on your way out. Or if you need cover."

The boy looked down for a moment, then back to her hand. He took the earpiece with a nod, and fitted it in. "It's about a twenty-minute walk from here. I'll try to be quick."

"Try to be careful, instead." The firm expression had returned to her face, and she looked away as she shut down the lights in the cockpit. "Get going."

Bruce slipped into the darkness and down into a gully that ran into the woods, not that far from the school he had attended for so long. He pulled a pair of pliers from his pack, and instead of cutting the fence, he worked a few wires loose so it looked like wear instead of a break in. Or out, for that matter. Once he was through, he started walking quickly in the direction of the terrigen factory. Walking. Thinking. The last time he was in this district, it was a Reaping Day… and the last time he saw the factory… and his father… and he was on this very path, very quickly…

Bruce didn't know how it happened, but he was suddenly running. Running just as he had that day so long ago. Furious, just as he had been that day. Furious at his father, at life. _Come on, Banner, get a grip. You've got work to do._

He slowed to a trot as he came closer to the factory and saw that it was largely dark. Still, he headed around the back, to the windows he knew how to open – and then he saw it. One of the labs had lights burning, even in the middle of the night.

His father's lab.

 _Damn._

He encouraged a far window to open, and headed down the main corridor, leaving modified C4 patches along the bottom of supporting columns as he went. The main target was in the only lit lab, however, where his father kept the formulas and made the adjustments that only he could do. He had planned it that way, of course. Kept himself so indispensable that after all these years, he was the only one who knew the whole, improved process.

Bruce felt his fists tighten as he thought about it, which succeeded in squashing the brick of C4 that he held into another shape entirely. He shook his head and shoved the radio activator in place before sticking the explosive putty to the next column. And then he was at the lab door.

Bruce stood still for a few moments, making sure his hood was in place. It wasn't supposed to impede their breathing, but he was pretty sure it did anyway, at least psychologically. He forced himself to take a deep, relaxed breath, and then he grabbed the door handle and opened it.

The man inside turned with a guilty jerk. "Who are you? What are you doing here? This is a restricted area."

As he spoke, he hurriedly shoved several containers under his worktable before turning toward a switch on the wall. Bruce grabbed a beaker and threw it with considerable accuracy, hitting his father's wrist square on as he reached for the alarm switch.

The man screamed like a child and cradled his hand to his chest.

Bruce ignored him, scanning the lab. It was much as he remembered, including the copper barrel still in the corner. He walked toward it quickly, trying to stay focused.

"I said, get out of here! You have no authority!" The man tried to block his path, and Bruce stared at him for a few seconds before shoving him out of the way, the force of his blow knocking the man into a table of boxes. "How _dare_ you. Do you have any idea who I am?"

And that was what finally made Bruce really look at him. At the trembling, sniveling, cowardly bully that was his father. "I know exactly who you are. You're a murderer. A bully. A drug dealer."

The man drew back in shock. "I work for a living. You don't know anything—"

"I know more than you think. And right now, I think that you should get the hell out of here." He spun away from his father, his thoughts racing, trying to concentrate on what he needed to do. Pulling the last of the modified C4 from his pack, he slapped it onto the collection tank from the still and pushed an activator into it.

"What are you doing? You can't—"

His father really shouldn't have tried to yank him away.

He _really_ shouldn't have thrown a punch.

Bruce grabbed him by the lapel of his lab coat and shoved him up against the wall. "Get. Out."

"You can't do this! I'll have you –"

He didn't remember pulling back his arm, but the punch that landed in his father's face bloodied his nose instantly, knocking him down. He slumped back, yelling incoherently as blood ferried down his white lab coat. Bruce opened the seals on the still and the collection tank before moving over to the terrigen tanks. He glanced at the monitors near them, nodded, and pulled out a few gelatin-wrapped packets of chemicals. Spinning the seal open, he dumped the packets in and spun it shut quickly.

Scanning the monitors again, he nodded. Several warning lights were already blinking.

He looked over at his father and barked harshly. "Last chance. Get out."

"There are too many safeguards for you to be able to—"

Bruce stared at him. _I should just leave him here. I should. It would be completely justified. It would be…it would be… murder._ "I don't have time to explain how easy your so-called safeguards are to bypass. Let's just get out." He glanced at the tanks as a thin keening sound began. Whether it was an alarm or just metal fatigue, he really didn't want to hang around to find out. He stepped over to his father and grabbed his arm, dragging him out into the hall. "Come on!"

His father had heard the sound, too, and for the first time seemed to realize there was actually a danger to his precious lab. They were outside before he seemed to process it all. "What have you done? My work, my…No!" He stopped dead, jerking out of Bruce's grasp and turning to run. "I have to go back!"

"No! You idiot, nothing is worth—"

By then he was at the door, keying himself in. "You don't know how long it took to put that still together! It was months! I have to—" the door closed behind him, cutting off his voice.

Bruce held his explosions started. He could tell which ones by the sound — first the terrigen tank, and then the still. He dropped to the ground, lifted his head, and surprised even himself, yelling "Dad!"

But it was too late. One after another, just as planned, the modified C4 charges down the main corridor all followed the one he planted in the tank. He expected the windows to go, but they must have been transparent aluminum. All they did was bubble outwards, glowing like a sheet of lava from the heat of the blasts, and then sink back on themselves, sagging slightly. Even from a distance, he could see the inside of the lab was black and red-orange, consuming itself.

His father was right about one thing. The building was built to protect what it held… even a major explosion… and keep it very secure. Everything inside the complex was completely destroyed.

Everything.

Bruce stood and stared. From a distance, he heard sirens. Closer, he heard a voice.

"This is Sky. Ground, are you there? What's going on?"

He blinked, realized he was hearing his comm link, and answered it as he began running toward the pickup point. "Here. And we've got incoming."

"I heard. Pick it up, Buttercup."

Bruce slid down the ravine to the fence he'd unraveled and slipped under it without slowing down. Evidently, May was tracking him, because he barely had the flyer in view when she started the engines. He dove in when he got to it, and she yelled back, "Hang on," not even giving him enough time to buckle in before she took off.

For a few minutes, he swore she was actually flying around trees instead of over them, but then they broke into the cloudy night. He pulled off his hood and blew out a breath, suddenly aware that he hadn't been breathing.

"You okay?"

He blinked a few times and pulled the comm piece out of his ear, putting it in a pouch at his belt. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

She didn't say anything for a few minutes, clearly letting him catch his breath and settle down. Bruce appreciated that. Then, she said, "Better turn it off, the batteries don't last forever."

He nodded vaguely, opened the pouch, looked down at his comm link, and swore.

"Damn it." Agent May didn't say anything. "You were listening, weren't you?"

The agent pointed to herself. "Back-up. How am I supposed to know if you're in trouble?"

"…then you heard."

Again, there was a long silence before she spoke. "You did everything you could. You did well."

Bruce stared out into the night. He spoke very quietly. "How can you want someone dead, and not want to kill them at the same time?"

"It's called not being a sociopath. He was responsible for his own actions. It wasn't up to you to make him a decent person. You did all that you could."

The boy stared at the back of her head for a moment, and then nodded with a subtle grin, unseen. "Well, I guess he _was_ able to love something more than himself."

A heavy exhalation from the front seat was his only answer.

* * *

 _December 12_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Wade and Cassie had been the first ones back to the Tahiti facilities, since One was the closest to the Capitol, and their mission had been the shortest and most straightforward. So, they were done by the time the jet came in with the team that had gone to Two. Coulson sent the two of them off and brought the newly-arrived team straight back to the briefing room to get the whole report — though even with how fast Coulson moved them, Wade and Cassie could clearly see that it hadn't quite gone according to plan, if the frustrated look on Clint's face was any indication.

Still, by all accounts, they had done well. The facility was crippled, and while Kate hadn't been able to kill Ivan, she _had_ taken out as many Red Room trainers as came out that door, and Sin had been sure to kill a few others who had tried to use the exits she was covering, so the Red Room wouldn't be bouncing back from this raid anytime soon.

It was just that for Clint, it was personal. This guy Ivan was, if Kate's file was right and his suspicions were correct, the reason Natasha was still on the other side of the Tahiti wing with Essex and not here with the rest of them, and while killing the guy wouldn't fix her head, it might just make him feel better.

If he was being honest, he wasn't frustrated about _just_ the mission, though. Not really. He sort of … felt like he was in limbo, stuck waiting for Charles to come back before he could know how much further Natasha had slipped, stuck waiting for the next mission so he could feel useful, just _stuck_ in general. He somehow made his way to the training room after Kate gave him a quick hug and let him know she'd be in the hangar waiting for Kurt and Peter to get back if he needed anything, but he hadn't actually been paying attention to where his feet were taking him.

Usually, he'd go shooting, but he had been doing that all day and honestly just wanted to _hit_ something, so he figured he'd find a good punching bag. But when he got to the training room, he saw that he wasn't the only one with that idea — as Bobbi was there absolutely beating down a bag of her own.

He made his way over and leaned against the wall to watch her go to town for a while before he had to ask, "Don't you get enough training in with all the kids you're mentoring?"

"If I don't want to get any better? Yeah," she replied before she hauled off and creamed the bag hard enough to set it really swinging.

"Need a spotter?" he offered. "We can switch off when you get tired. Kinda feel like pounding a bag today too."

"Sure," she replied before she took a step backward and brushed her hair out of her face. "Why not?"

He grinned and stepped up to the bag. "That's a ringing endorsement."

"Impress me, Hawkeye," she challenged.

"Yeah?" He gave her a little raised-eyebrow look before he started to wail on the punching bag. This kind of thing he could do. It was straightforward, didn't require him to block Bobbi's ridiculous moves, and it was all about putting the power behind the punch. And after the first few punches, he just didn't focus on impressing Bobbi so much as he focused on getting out a whole lot of pent-up aggression — which had the side effect of looking kind of impressive, too.

"You always put that much into your workouts?" she asked when he had to take a breather.

He took a step back and shook his head. "Nah, just when I'm impressing a pretty girl," he said with a shrug that he only halfway meant.

"Yeah? Hit harder," she teased.

He looked her way for a second before he squared his shoulders, then his feet, and then popped back with a hard enough hit to send it swinging like she'd done before.

"That's more like it," Bobbi said with a smile.

"You're hard work, you know that?" he said, shaking his head as he leaned over to put his hands on his knees for a second, starting to feel a little better now that he'd worked off some frustration — and starting to feel the hard workout after a rough mission too.

"Yeah, now is when it's usually time to hit the kitchen and grab a bite to eat," she said, rubbing her shoulder. "Are you game for that too, or are you planning on skulking around the training room all night?"

"Depends. How good is my skulking, and does it make me look any better than my usual walk?" he asked with a sideways smile.

"It's not as good as your strut, if that's what you want to know," she said, folding her arms and smirking his way.

"Good to know. Strut more. Skulk less. Walking falls somewhere in there too, but that's just the everyday sexy." He smirked a bit to match her before he took a long drink from his water bottle and finished it off.

"I'll get back to you on the final order," she promised. "It'll take some research."

"I don't know how I'll bear the suspense. Should I be walking or strutting? C'mon, Bobbi, this is a real question," he said as the playful smirk turned into an honest grin.

"I guess it depends on how much you want to get my attention," she replied with an ill-hidden smile of her own.

"Let's say I just want the long stare," Clint said as they headed for the door to the hallway.

"Then maybe the best way to handle that would be to walk away, do a little turn, and strut back," she answered, laughing at his antics.

"I need a runway," Clint pointed out.

"And a fan."

"Well." He grinned her way. "If I do it right, I've got _one_ adoring fan, anyway."

She had to shake her head at that. "Gotta start somewhere."

He paused at the door and leaned against it, grinning at her outright. "You're something else, Bobbi," he said.

"Something other than what?" she asked with a little frown.

Clint glanced back at her frown and matched it with his own. "I just meant ... it's not an insult," he said quickly. "You're just something else. Not used to girls like you, I guess, is what I meant."

"Well then I'll just try to feel sorry for you," she said. She had to pause and sigh when she saw that he had lost much of the grin he'd worked so hard to recover. "Don't mind me, really," she said. "I'm just not looking forward to the tour."

He stopped walking and took hold of her shoulder to spin her his way so he could give her an appraising look. "Hey, what's up?" he asked seriously.

"Nothing earth-shattering, I just hate this time of year," she said with a little shrug.

"Is this a Christmas problem or just the tour or you just feel like bah-humbugging?" he asked, trying for a little smile.

"It's mostly a tour thing," she admitted. "Though it brings about the bah-humbugs."

"Yeah, well." Clint rubbed the back of his neck. "Capitol sucks. Glad we're fighting 'em, to be honest. Just ... if I'd known it was a seasonal thing, I'd've asked for more missions, see if we can speed things along before New Years. No reason for this season to suck even more for you guys, right?"

"Fury has his schedule," she told him with a heavy sigh. "He's using other events to cover our missions so they're not paying attention. You'll be really busy while we're on the tour."

"Yeah, Cassie told us that's the norm." He shrugged up one shoulder to his ear. "Personally, I say screw Fury and just hang the whole Capitol and stop playing games, but that's just me. Figure we've had enough, y'know?"

"There are some things that need to be all lined up before we can do that, and it's not set yet," she said. "But when it happens, it'll be fast."

"Good, 'cause anything that causes bah-humbugs needs to go," Clint said, grinning her way. "You're headed back to Two for the holidays, right?"

"Right after Christmas," she said letting out a breath. "Have to keep up appearances."

"Well, consider this an open invite to Christmas with me and the other kids," he told her. "Dunno what they have planned, but if it's awful, we'll find something else to do."

"You asking me on a date, Barton?" she teased. "Because i've heard there are rules that … pretty much the victors just ignore to be honest."

"Morse, if I was asking you on a date I'd be more direct about it," he said with a grin. "I'd say — Bobbi, wanna meet up with me in the flight sim and not do a sim for a while two days before Christmas?"

"Good to know the distinction," she said.

He just tipped his head at her for a second and then shrugged. "Yeah, well, I've never been good at subtle," he said with a grin that had him honestly surprised at himself.

"That's good though. Subtle can go over people's heads too easily," she said, nodding.

He just shrugged at that and started walking for the cafeteria again before he paused. He just… couldn't let that hang in the air. "Hey. Bobbi," he said. "Wanna meet up with me in the flight sim two days before Christmas?"

She turned to look at him for just a moment before she tipped her head and looked like she was thinking it over for a moment. "Yeah, okay. Could be fun."

He grinned at that and just held the door open for her. "Alright then. I'll make sure there's no Christmas decorations anywhere so you can bah-humbug properly," he promised.

"I'm not too worried about the decorations," she said.

"Yeah, I'm a fan of mistletoe myself," he said, still surprising himself with the grin that kept creeping up.

"Any excuse, huh?"

"Not usually," he admitted. "But you know. Might be nice to try it out sometime."

"I'm pretty sure that Kate could find some," she suggested. "She might have mentioned getting a hold of some while she was in Seven."

"Sounds like her," he said. He paused and looked her way. "Won't bring mistletoe," he decided. "You can if you want. But I ain't looking for an _excuse_."

"Good," she said with a nod. "I don't need greenery for a kiss."

He grinned a bit nervously and just shrugged one shoulder up. "Right. So ... dinner," he said, gesturing at the food.

She gave him a little smile, and the two of them dug in — to go find a quiet spot away from the noisier people still talking about the mission.

* * *

Kurt and Peter arrived with Ororo and Wraith much later than the rest of the teams that went in, which, of course, meant they had a bit of explaining to do to Coulson, who didn't seem to appreciate having to wait on them for so long.

"It was an army of little girls!" Peter blurted out before Coulson could say anything. "A dozen of them!"

"And it was cold enough we couldn't just _hope_ they got to where they belonged," Kurt added. "Some of them were as young as five."

Coulson lost a bit of his frown on hearing that, though he did still look irritated. "Next time you come across a wrinkle like that, _call it in_. Otherwise, I'm going to have to assume something happened and send someone in after you."

"Got it," Kurt said with a quick little nod before he added, "but we were really just following through."

"I'm sure," Coulson said, though there was a smirk that neither of the boys could quite identify tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Besides the army of girls, I trust you didn't run into any other problems?"

"Nope," Peter said, shaking his head.

"Nothing worth reporting," Kurt agreed with a perfect poker face. "I did drop half a stack of logs on someone — does that interest you?"

"Was it a bad guy or a civilian?" Coulson asked with a disinterested expression.

"She was the recruiter for the Red Room in that area, as I understand it," Kurt said. "But I don't think she'll be recruiting there anymore, if you can call what she does 'recruiting' in the first place."

"Well in that case, good, that woman was, by all reports, a very nasty operator."

"And good with a sword," Peter cut in with a little smile.

Coulson looked between the two young men for a long moment before he finally had to simply shake his head at the pair of them. "Well, good enough for now," he said. "It's late. Maybe you can give me the _full_ debrief in the morning."

"That sounds good. I'm beat," Peter said with an exaggerated yawn and a stretch as the two boys, relieved not to have been pressed for too many details, zipped off to shower, change, and head to their rooms for the night.

It _was_ , actually, very late when they got back, enough so that it could have been considered the next day, so Kurt hadn't expected Kate to be waiting for him when he got back to his room. Though, of course, he should have known better, as she waited all of ten seconds after he'd closed the door to his room before he heard the scrape of the vent cover under his bed and she slid out with a little grin.

"You are _so_ late, mister," she said, sticking her finger in his chest.

"I had a good reason," he replied with a troublemaking smirk before he wrapped an arm around her and gave her a kiss.

When the kiss broke, she was a little less inclined to still pretend to be mad at him for his tardiness, though now she was obviously curious as she pulled him down to sit next to her. "So tell me how it went, and please tell me it went well, because mine was a minor disaster."

"We saved a small army of little girls, killed the bad guy, then walked the girls home — most of them," he said, the smirk stretching a bit into a smile.

"Sounds pretty standard fare," she pointed out.

He shook his head and picked up the book he'd set down when he stepped in the room. "Borrowed a book too."

She reached over to snatch it out of his hands and give it a once over. "Sherlock Holmes, huh? I'm gonna have to borrow it when you're done. I love a good mystery."

"Solving mysteries, are you?" he said tipping his head to the side. "How about a small one, then? The general of the little girl army is the owner of that book."

She examined the book for a moment but found that she was drawing a blank. "I don't know any of the kids in Seven, Kurt. I don't think Logan mentioned any little girls — unless he told you stories he didn't tell me."

"He didn't," Kurt said. "But a Sentinel did in the family interviews."

Kate pursed her lips and thought it over before she just shook her head. "All I'm getting is the mental image of Logan and a small girl army, but if you'd seen Logan…"

Kurt just grinned wider. "No, I didn't _see_ Logan ... but I did pick this up off his bookshelf."

Kate gasped and glanced back down at the book in her hands, wide-eyed, before she leaned over and hit Kurt with it. "You were in his _house_?" she asked in a half-hissed whisper.

"We didn't plan it," Kurt promised. "But a handful of the little ones were orphans, and for whatever reason, they didn't want to go to the orphanage. But their tiny leader, Elsie, said they could stay at her friend's house."

"Her friend being Logan, of course," Kate surmised, shaking her head. "That is _so_ not fair! What was it like? That's just… _so unfair_!"

"It's very comfortable, rustic, and it has a good view, honestly."

"And a bookshelf, and a small girl army who lives there now. _Kurt_ , seriously!"

"She said they didn't live there, but that he wouldn't care if they stayed the night while he was gone," Kurt corrected. "And that Heather would be by to take care of them in the morning."

"Who's Heather?" Kate asked, not even bothering to hide her grin.

"Don't get excited, apparently she's married to a Sentinel," Kurt said. "Or that's what Elsie said."

"It's probably a very bad thing that I am this jealous of a little girl in Seven right now, isn't it?" Kate said, shaking her head as she leaned back against the wall, turning the Sherlock Holmes book over in her hands a few times. "Seriously."

"You're not the only one," Kurt said with a little smirk.

"I can't believe you — you _stole_ from your best friend!" she said, changing tactics now as she shook her head at him.

"I did not," he argued. "I'll give it back to him the next time I see him."

"You totally stole his mystery novel, Kurt. And here I've been telling everyone what a little angel you are."

"I left him a note," he said, then paused. "Kind of."

"What kind of note?" she asked, perking up again.

"One that said the book was on loan." Kurt smiled a little bit as he glanced downward. "If he happens to notice the book is gone — the note is there."

"Are you going to get in trouble for leaving him a note?" she asked. "I mean, you're supposed to be dead."

"I didn't sign it," he said. "I'm not that … reckless. And we didn't exactly tell them where we were."

"I'd've signed it," Kate said with a little troublemaking smirk. "But I approve wholeheartedly of secret Logan house trips."

"The little army was totally at home," Kurt said. "Clearly, this is a regular occurrence."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," Kate said with a little giggle. "He's just like that. He can't help it."

"No, he really can't," Kurt agreed.

"So," she said as she leaned back and tossed the book up in the air. "Besides being _totally unfair_ and getting the secret behind-the-scenes look at our lost Team Awesome friend — things were pretty standard? Kill the bad guy, come home to supper with the army?"

"Pretty much exactly that," he admitted. "We started a fire for the girls and made sure they were fed — they got their own blankets to start with and just made themselves at home."

"And you two just couldn't resist all that cute in one place and had to join in." She grinned at him as she kept on tossing the book.

"I really wanted to," Kurt admitted. "And I was more than willing to just stay there to try to catch him until Elsie told us he'd be gone for a few days. Go figure."

"Just bad timing," she said with a frown before she set the book aside on his bedside table and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Maybe next time."

"How was your mission?" he asked, leaning back with her as he let out a sigh and got a little more comfortable.

She pulled a face. "Well, it sucked, I'm not gonna lie," she admitted. "I mean, we blew the place up, but the guy I was supposed to kill got away. I got his bodyguard instead. I didn't even miss — the guy was just in the _way_." She sighed out her frustration and rested her head on Kurt's shoulder. "Clint wasn't happy he got away, either. He was pretty much sulking the whole flight back. I didn't get the shot, Kurt. It just… didn't happen."

"It doesn't always come together," he said before he pulled her into a tight hug. "That's not your fault."

"I know, but I still feel like I screwed up," she admitted. "I wanted to get this guy _so badly_. For Clint, you know? He's got a personal grudge against these guys."

"Because of Natasha," Kurt said with a nod.

"Yeah, apparently this guy was the one in charge of brainwashing and torture — and she _grew up_ in it." Kate pulled a face. "That's just… evil."

"It just makes me that much happier that we got those little girls out," Kurt said. "A few of them were just five."

Kate picked her head up and looked at Kurt with wide eyes. " _Five_?" she repeated, and when he nodded, she just started to shake her head. "I _should've_ shot that guy. I mean, I tagged him, but I couldn't get the kill shot and ... I should've just…" She let out all her breath and rested her head back down on his shoulder. "I know we're trying to take out some evil guys before we hit the Capitol, but this kind of thing just ... hurts my heart."

"They deserve better," Kurt agreed. He kissed her temple and hugged her a bit tighter as he added in a deep, reassuring tone, "And we'll get this guy sooner or later. I'm sure if Logan knew this creep was after his little friend, he'd hunt him down _for_ us."

"Oh for sure," Kate agreed, a little smile starting at the corner of her mouth. "I think we'd be nicer than Logan would be to that creep."

"Definitely," Kurt said. "So maybe he should be tipped off then?"

"Yes, I think so," Kate said with a pretended thoughtful nod. "We should suggest to Coulson that someone needs to deliver a message to Seven. Maybe in a book. You know — sneaky spy style."

"I'd have to find one we could part with," Kurt said with a laugh.

"We'll just both have to read it at the same time," she countered. "Send it back when we're done."

"If we tried to pick up Japanese, our options would open substantially too," Kurt said. "Our friend is full of surprises."

"Clearly," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't even know he spoke Japanese." She paused and bit her lip with a little smile. "But… I like learning German with you."

"I am inspired to learn more," he replied with a grin. "Perhaps I can have your gun teacher help me."

"Oh, I bet he'd like that," Kate said with a sedate smile as she leaned against him. "He's a softie. Secretly."

"We seem to find them and collect them," Kurt said with a grin before he just had to kiss her again, and the two of them put aside mission shop talk for a good long while.


	21. Fly Right

**Notes: Well, now that we've sufficiently shaken up the Red Room, it's time to do a little checking in with everybody. What are they up to when they're NOT busting up creeps? (Or… in Logan's case….)**

* * *

 **Chapter 21: "Fly Right"**

* * *

 _December 13th_

 _Phil Coulson's Tahiti Office_

* * *

"Miss Potts, thank you for joining me," Coulson said with a professional smile as he gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Please. Make yourself comfortable."

Pepper gave him a nervous little smile as she took her seat and straightened up, her hands on her knees. "I'm not really sure what I can do for you or your organization," Pepper said. "I'm not a scientist or a fighter — clearly you could see that from how long I lasted in those horrible Games. Not my best idea, that's for sure."

"That doesn't mean we can't find something for you to do," Coulson replied as he sat down himself and folded his hands in front of him. "It's my understanding that you have quite the talent for … well. Organizing. Keeping things running smoothly, and just as importantly — getting Tony Stark to take breaks to wash up, eat, and sleep."

Pepper raised her eyebrows slightly at that, surprised that the little list was considered a package of skills. "Well I'm not sure that I'm qualified …"

"Miss Potts," Coulson let out a sigh. "Can I call you Pepper?" She nodded after a moment and Coulson continued. "Pepper, if you can get Tony Stark to do anything other than what comes from his own mind, then you have a useable skill," Coulson pointed out. "And if you can get Tony to do that much, I'm sure you can enforce breaks with Mr. Banner as well."

Pepper glanced down at her hands for a moment before Coulson continued. "You'd be an asset, Pepper. Really. And not just for Tony's sake. Some of the detail work regarding how well these kids are progressing — inventory of the inventions happening here — and a laundry list of other things … they all need someone that has a gift for keeping track of things, and I think that's exactly up your alley."

Pepper's eyes widened, and she leaned forward, her hands folded tightly in front of herself as she thought over what he was saying. "I… I think I could do that," she said with a little nod.

"It's a lot of minutia," Coulson warned. "You'll have plenty to keep track of, and in a business like this, even the little details can be crucial to mission success or failure."

But Pepper was already nodding. "If it means I can help…"

Coulson smiled gently at her. "You're already helping, Pepper, if you know it or not. But if you want more to do, I could absolutely use the help, for my own sanity if nothing else."

Pepper matched his smile with a shy one of her own. "Then… let me at those files," she decided with a determined little nod.

* * *

 _December 15th_

 _District Seven_

* * *

The Capitol docs had once again done a fine job of healing Logan up right back to perfect condition in a matter of a few days before they kicked him back to Seven with a warning to take care of himself, sure to tell him too that the quick healing drugs were not something that was meant to be used all the time and they had no idea what might happen if they were forced to keep doing that with him.

However, on his arrival to his home district, he was just … angry. Creed had taken a cheap shot, sucker punching him while he was drunk, of all things — taken every advantage that there was for him to take — and it just had Logan ready to hunt him down and work him over.

Which was exactly what he did. From the day he arrived back in Seven, he and Creed had been doing a back and forth brawl that was quickly driving up tensions with the Sentinels in Seven. The two men _knew_ they weren't supposed to engage each other but they did it anyhow — most of the time careful to avoid anything that might not be something that could be hidden. Both of them were about fourteen shades of black and blue from the neck down by the time the cage fight was scheduled to start later that night, but the two of them simply weren't going to make it that long.

Logan had been hunting for the past three days, and he'd taken down a moose. It wasn't something that he'd planned on doing, but since Heather had opened the floodgates to the kids at the orphanage, he had a few more mouths to feed than he'd planned on.

He had the moose skinned, butchered and loaded on a sled that he was pulling like a horse through the snow. This was one part of the hunt that he'd wished he had help for. It was bitterly cold and the snow was deep, so dragging the meat through wolf country wasn't exactly the safest thing he could have done, but ... he still felt like it needed doing.

The little victor had just gotten back to his house a bit before noon and he had loaded the meat into the freezer when he heard Creed — outside and calling out a whole string of curses and threats that had grown old to listen to. He ignored him at first, busy cleaning up after his kill and watching him turn six different shades of red out the window while he warmed up with a cup of coffee.

The Sentinels had made it clear that they'd lay blame on whoever was the clear instigator in any fights between them, and Logan was almost enjoying just watching Creed try to bait him out. But he knew that eventually he'd end up having to deal with him anyhow.

He kicked himself up away from the cabinetry when he'd finished his coffee and made his way over to slip his flannel shirt back on before he stepped out of the house. He took his time walking down to the street, all while Creed called him every name in the book and the worst kinds of coward. But the last dozen yards or so, Creed had stopped talking as the two of them just darted toward each other — both of them fully prepared to throw down and more or less in good enough shape to do it.

The brawl had drawn a crowd before it had even gotten started, and naturally, cooler heads had done the smart thing and gone to get the Sentinels before something bad happened. Before it was over, though, it had taken six men to pull the two fighters apart.

" _Logan!_ " Mac hissed in his ear. "Logan, this isn't like you!"

"Just look the other way, Mac," Logan growled out. "Get your buddies and take a walk. I'll make it quick, and this idiot won't bother anyone again." Mac just stared at him in disbelief, then reasserted his grip on him and pushed him back bodily so the other two could put him in cuffs.

By the time they'd gotten both men cuffed and in custody, all of the Sentinels there were half out of breath from trying to wrestle the two of them back. The two Seven victors were still glaring at each other hard when a radio chirped, and one of the men nearest the street answered the call.

"Ten-four, do you want both of them?" An unnatural hush fell over the gathered crowd, though neither Creed or Logan dropped the glares toward each other. The tall Sentinel looked between the two handcuffed victors before he relayed the message.

"Take Creed to the square. Dugan wants Logan in his office ASAP."

Creed immediately started to complain loudly until the same Sentinel cut him short. " _What makes you think he's getting off easy?_ "

He fell silent as the Sentinels divided up, with half of them dragging Creed toward the square and the other half escorting Logan to the head Sentinel's office.

The little victor glanced over his shoulder as Mac pulled him along by the arm as both officers speculated as to what was going to happen next and what kind of trouble their favorite victor was in. At least for a while.

"Get it together, Hudson," the older man said to Mac before he jostled Logan to make sure he had his full attention. "Between you and me? You're just giving that son of a bitch what he deserves. But you can't do this crap, kid. Even if you win this one, you lose. _Big_ _time_. The whole district will feel it if you let this get out of hand."

Logan glared up at him for a moment, but it really had no fire, as he knew that the man was speaking the truth. But before he could try and argue the point, both men slowed and then stiffened completely when they stepped into the Sentinels' headquarters.

The Sentinels that hadn't responded to the fight were all lining the walls and standing outside the Head Sentinel's office,where several black-suited, rather intimidating-looking men were standing guard. SHIELD agents.

"What did you _do_?" Mac whispered over Logan's shoulder, wide-eyed and suddenly scared for his friend.

"No idea," Logan rumbled quietly as he took in each unfamiliar face even as the Sentinel behind the desk rushed them toward Dugan's office. Mac and his partner dragged Logan in, nearly pulling him off the ground in their rush to get him where they wanted him. But they stopped dead in their tracks on seeing the head Gamemaker staring out the window.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Fury said without turning to look at them. "I can take it from here."

Mac gave Logan a very concerned look that clearly read 'you better find me when you get out' before he and his partner slipped from the room and closed the door behind him. Logan drew in a breath and straightened up a hair as he waited for the other shoe to drop. Things were far further out of hand if Fury was there in person.

"You've been busy," Fury said as he finally turned to face the battered, half bloodied young man. "Most people that win this thing — they go to their new homes. Settle down. Try to put all that violence and bloodshed behind them. But you — it's almost like it flipped a switch isn't it? Like you _need_ to fight and kill now." Logan just watched him with a glare, unblinking as he tracked the man with only his eyes. "We don't know what to do with you. Going back to _work._ Fighting in the streets. And balancing it off by feeding the starving children in your free time."

"You gonna tell me why you're here, or you just want to stand there and read back my schedule for me?" Logan half growled, though Fury smirked in response as he leaned against Dugan's desk and crossed his arms over his chest — openly assessing the young man still in cuffs in front of him.

"You do know who I am, don't you?" Fury asked, a bit too cocky for Logan's liking.

"You do know I don't give a damn, right?"

Fury just let out a sigh before he got down to business. "You need to keep your head down. You're drawing the wrong kind of attention, and it's going to bite you and everyone else in the ass." He got a bit closer for a moment just to make his point at a near whisper. "Thanos is watching you — and he doesn't believe your little brawl with Creed is just over some little dead girl."

"Two."

"Excuse me?" Fury said with a frown as Logan slowly turned his head Fury's way, glaring as venomously as he could manage.

" _Two_ little dead girls."

At that, Fury looked entirely unamused. "You need to stop. I'm telling you for your own good — and the good of everyone in this district — if you don't stop you will be punished. Both of you. No more fights with Creed — or anyone else." He leaned forward to make sure Logan heard him. "It's not just you that you need to worry about."

Logan just barked out a laugh at that. "Yeah? My friends are all dead — on my head. No family but the old man, and he's on the way out. What're they gonna do? Kill me?"

"What about your cousin and his little wife?" Fury challenged at a whisper. "Think I didn't know that your mother was a Hudson out of District Two?"

Logan's glare slipped a bit. "Distant relative."

"You think that matters?" Fury asked. "If not them, what about all the kids you're taking care of in the orphanage? You think that's going to be allowed to stand — your hunting for them?"

Logan's anger slipped a bit further as Fury watched him. "You have a tour to get ready for, and I need you to not be beat to hell when it happens. Behave. Clean up your act. Your prep team will be here a little before New Years. No. More. Fighting. Am I clear?"

Logan just nodded silently, though he didn't take his gaze off of Fury for a moment as the Gamemaker leaned in close. "Don't let him drag you down, Logan. Trust me on this. You'll get your chance where no one will stop you. Just not yet."

Logan turned his head Fury's way as the enigmatic man just smirked at him. "What the hell does that mean?" Logan blurted out, though the answer was not quiet and hushed as it had been moments before.

"It means that the next time I hear about you and Victor Creed, it needs to be to the tune of how well the two of you are getting along. Tolerating each other at the very least. Show the Capitol that the two most recognizable victors from the outer districts weren't raised by wolves. I'll leave the rest to your prep team. I don't have time to explain this to you. You should know already..." He tapped his ear and then gestured to the room around him before he raised one finger to his lips then clasped a heavy hand on Logan's shoulder — his message clear. The walls had ears. Even here.

Logan met his gaze and nodded once before Fury swept out, leaving him to wait for Dugan to finish the dressing down. He could hear the Head Sentinel talking up Fury on the way out, trying to make sure that he knew whatever was going on would be stopped one way or another. He barely looked up when Dugan returned to his office and took a seat at his desk. He took his time studying the young man as he stood there, clothes torn, bloodied and still in handcuffs.

"Is there going to be more trouble from you?" Dugan asked through narrowed eyes as he fiddled with his mustache.

"I'm not gonna start anything," Logan promised.

"But you'll defend yourself if Creed does, is that it?" Dugan asked. Logan just tipped his head a bit, and Dugan had to let out a weary sigh. "Can't fault you for that, I suppose. But I'm going to be as clear as I can for your thick skull, so listen good, boy. If I catch you starting any kind of trouble at all — with anyone — I'll start you off with twenty lashes and add ten more every time you so much as look at anyone cross eyed."

Logan locked his jaw and just glared at him for a while until he just nodded once. Dugan just glared back until he hit a button on the desk that called for Mac and his partner to return. "Cut him loose, but make sure he gets to where he should be," Dugan said. "Next time though, no mercy. You got that Hudson? You'll be handing out the punishment instead of covering for him, and you can damn well bet that you better do it right."

Mac just looked deathly serious and nodded his head before he hauled Logan out of the office with a deep frown in place. His partner fell back once they were a few blocks from the station to give his partner a bit of privacy as Mac uncuffed Logan.

"This is serious, Logan," Mac said as he watched the street around him.

"I know."

"Do you really?" Mac half hissed before he got close and continued in a whisper, "Fury doesn't come out to talk to people. Ever. Especially this close to the tour. What did he want?"

"To tell me to lay off." Logan met Mac's gaze but gave nothing away.

"You _are_ going to listen, right? Please, Logan. Tell me you're going to listen. I don't want to have to be the one to hand out your freakin' punishments."

"Yeah, I'll listen, Mac," Logan said. "I swear. I'll be good." The Sentinel let out a heavy sigh of relief as he again started to pull him down the road by the arm.

"You better," Mac said before he let out a sigh and his shoulders relaxed the slightest. "Hey. Heather's been worried about you for all the time you've been out in the woods. You gotta ease up on the long-distance hunts. She's convinced the wolves are going to get to you."

Logan just made a derisive noise that got a little smile out of Mac. "I'll tell her you're okay," Mac swore. "And prepared to feed the army. You know the gossip's going to have got there before I will."

* * *

 _December 23rd_

 _TAHITI Complex_

* * *

It had taken a lot of doing, but Clint had managed to sneak some alcohol into the Tahiti complex.

He'd run a solo mission, just a quick thing down to One to kill some woman who had managed to escape Wade's onslaught during the breakup of the Red Room in that district — she'd seen Cassie's face, and the Tahiti higher-ups weren't going to let that stand. It was a simple enough job, and One was practically in the Capitol's pocket. Wasn't hard to find a bottle of wine and get himself a little five-fingered discount.

He really wasn't sure what wine he was supposed to get. The hoity-toity types in Two seemed to have rules about what type and when and how and all that kind of thing when it came to wine… but he really had no idea about anything except that it came in a nice bottle and it had alcohol in it. Most he'd ever had was some whiskey that he and the other boys in SAFE would swipe from Sentinels and Sentinel-wannabes who annoyed them.

So — that wasn't the hard part. The hard part was getting the wine _into_ Tahiti without being caught.

He brought it in with his quiver for the most part, but of course, he had to check his weapon past the briefing rooms, because for some reason they were real picky about weapons in the Tahiti wing — something about safety protocols, though Clint was pretty sure it was more about control and not letting the kids had access to something to shoot Essex between the eyes when he was being annoying as usual.

So he stuffed the bottle in his body armor and slipped off to the showers and hoped that Bobbi wouldn't mind that he'd stuck it with the shampoo for a while, since he had to shove his uniform in the laundry chute. From there, it was just a matter of wrapping it up in a towel and just running with it, stashing the bottle in a vent.

He really hoped Bobbi didn't mind that it was pretty well dusty, since the dirt and dust from the vent stuck fast to the wet bottle.

A couple days later, he put on a fresh shirt and clean jeans and swung by the vents near the showers to grab the bottle and stuff it in with some of the food 'Ro had helped him get from the kitchens before he headed down to the flight simulator to meet up with Bobbi.

He'd been a little worried maybe he'd overprepared with the wine — but when he walked in and saw Bobbi, he suddenly felt woefully underdressed and definitely out of his league. _Barton, you dummy_ , he thought to himself as he just managed to keep from outright gaping as the very, _very_ pretty blonde in a _dress_ just grinning at him. _Showing up in jeans with shampoo-scented wine._

"You — uh — you look great," he managed to get out.

"And you're adorable," she replied, still grinning his way. "What's the big plan?"

"Right." He straightened up a bit and set down the little box of food so he could open it and pulled out the wine and other contents. "I brought contraband."

She grinned a bit wider at that. "Barton, I'm shocked," she said with mock surprise. "Are you trying to get me liquored up?"

"Not really," he assured her, though he was wearing a smirk. "I dunno anything about wine, so I don't even know if this _would_ do the trick."

She picked up the bottle and looked at the label for a moment. "It's a semi-sweet. Fitting." She looked up to meet his gaze for a moment. "And it would do the trick."

"Well, then, you just have as much as you like and try not to get me liquored up in the process," he said with a sideways grin. "I also brought food if you don't want just straight drinking. You know. Lest I be accused of taking advantage."

"I don't think I'd accuse you of that," she said before she handed the bottle back to him. "Do your worst. It'll be fun."

"I'll try and do my _best_ you mean," he corrected her as he leaned back and just watched her for a second before reaching into the box for some food.

"Either way, still sounds like fun," she replied with a crooked smile. "Hope you don't mind that I overdressed a bit. I have a ton of these in my closet, and I think it's criminal to wear them just once. For all the work the stylists put into them, you'd think they'd want them to be worn more."

"Yeah, I don't really get that. But I don't really get any of that stuff," Clint admitted, leaning back a bit further with a shrug.

"You're really better off _not_ getting it," she said with an almost weary look.

"But you look great," Clint offered, trying for a smile. "I know enough to know _that_ at least. I'm stupid, not blind."

"Well, and you fill out those jeans nicely too. I appreciate that."

"I may even do a strut for you later if you ask real nice," he said with a smirk. "Hallway's a decent catwalk."

"Sounds like some fair to good entertainment." She dug around to find the corkscrew and took a swig before she handed the bottle over to him.

"That's what I grew up doing — entertaining people," Clint said as he took the bottle and took a drink himself, raising his eyebrows. "That ... is nothing like whiskey or beer."

"No, nothing at all. It's pretty sweet," she said, nodding. "So how did you entertain people? I think I'd remember you in Two if that's what your gig was."

He handed her the bottle and shrugged. "Well. Sort of a fighting club thing, really. People came and bet on it." He gave her a crooked grin with his head tipped to one side. "Usually bet on me, actually. I made Buck a lot of money."

"That guy's a grade A jerk," she said with her nose scrunched up "What in the world made you join up with him? There were better trainers, you know. That actually trained."

"Yeah, you need money to get better trainers," Clint said with a shrug.

"We need to shut that guy down," she said.

"No arguments there," Clint said as he took another drink and handed it back. "Guy shouldn't be anywhere near kids, but that's where half of us end up anyway."

"He shouldn't be anywhere near _people_ ," she said dryly.

"There was a lot of that in Two, though," Clint said. He gave her a little look for a second as he added, "Not all of us got in the prestigious academies."

"True, and that's a shame," she agreed. "But that guy — he _did_ go to one and got tossed. Then he couldn't make the grade with the Sentinels. A more psychological person might say that he's taking out his inadequacies on the kids that get stuck with him."

"You've been hanging out with Charlie," Clint teased her.

"Henry," she corrected. "But Charles agrees. You should hear the two of them discuss people. It's like a foreign language."

"Yeah, happens when the eggheads get together. You ever see Banner and Stark working? Because I swear, it's like a mind-meld."

"They call them the Science Bros," She said with a grin before she took a good drink again. "Morons with microscopes. It's worse when Pym gets in the middle too."

"Well, they need the microscopes," Clint said with a little smirk.

She just laughed at his little jab for a moment. "You're trouble, you know that?"

"I've been told that. By … oh, everyone," Clint said, the smirk widening a bit as he leaned toward her. "More fun that way."

"Oh, for sure," she agreed, "but we'll just have to see how much you're capable of. I mean, you brought booze and all the great little things to nibble on … halfway through a bottle of wine and you haven't even _tried_ to kiss me yet." She shook her head and shrugged one shoulder to her ear. "Not nearly as much trouble as you like to think you are."

"Oh, well, I was trying to be less trouble, more gentleman," Clint said, leaning forward a bit. "But…" He took a breath and darted in to very quickly give her a gentle kiss and then leaned back and grinned.

"Still more gentlemanly than most," she said before she set the bottle down and returned the kiss a bit more aggressively — and far more involved.


	22. Home for Christmas

**Notes: There are literally no "big" holidays right now so we can't even joke about celebrating Christmas for Valentines or something. Darn. Well, here, have some February holiday...ness :P**

* * *

 **Chapter 22: "Home for Christmas"**

* * *

 _December 23_

 _Tahiti Training Room_

* * *

The track ran around the gym wall about twenty feet up in the air to keep the floor space clear for workouts. With the rounded corners, six laps made a mile, and it was wide enough for about four people across. At this early hour, there were only two.

"How many is that?" Wade called over his shoulder.

"Aren't you counting?"

"Why would I run with someone else if I could keep track of the… track?"

As so often happened during their workouts, Bruce found half a grin creeping across his face. "This makes four miles. And it's Thursday. One more?"

"Only if you can keep up!" The sandy-haired boy pulled ahead, putting on a burst of speed that Bruce knew for a fact that he couldn't keep up for a whole mile. He sped up slightly himself, gauging how much he'd need to accelerate to pass the other young man when he eventually slowed. He watched the boy in the lead for a minute before commenting.

"Hey. You're doing it again. Every time you speed up, you breathe as if you're panicking. Too shallow!" The last comment was a yell, as the other pulled farther ahead.

"Yeah, right, _you're_ too shallow!" Wade half turned to look back and laugh, and Bruce shook his head as he steadily picked up his pace.

They got along surprisingly well.

It was the gym that shaped their friendship, and their styles — different from each other, but even more different from the rest of their 'class' — put them in a strange little category all their own.

 _Exceedingly Weird Gym Rats._ Or as Wade would say, "Ewgrrr."

For all his scientific thinking, Bruce had become accustomed to working out every day when he was at school. The nearly military workouts helped clear his mind and calm his spirit. He was glad there was such a well-equipped gym in this facility. However, he was quite surprised the first time he wandered in at five in the morning and discovered Wade was already there. The other boy's martial arts training had evidently done the same job of causing him to want to work out everyday.

The first few days, they simply nodded to each other and did their own thing… but soon they were working together. Spotting each other on the heavy lifting, pacing each other on the track. And giving each other tips on form.

Besides, Wade was a surprisingly good listener, and he made Bruce laugh. And Bruce listened to the thoughts behind Wade's rambles, and could usually tell what was on his mind. Odd, but it worked.

They finished up the morning with some light arm work. That is, thirty-pound hand weights, just to cool down. Bruce glanced over at Wade and motioned with his chin between reps. "You're sitting into that angle with your elbow. Check the mirror."

Wade adjusted his arm without turning, and Bruce squinted appraisingly. "Better. But still, if you looked—"

"Don't like to look."

They did ten reps in silence before Bruce spoke again. "Okay." They put down the weights and moved to the floor for cool down stretches. "Why's that?"

"Just don't like it."

"Hmh." Bruce knew that Wade had been scarred before the Tahiti process, but he was always a little surprised when it was made obvious that the boy still felt scarred and ugly. He understood insecurity, though, and didn't push it.

They put their feet together and joined hands to stretch. They were nearly done when Wade spoke. He grimaced before he put the words together and leaned backwards. "Hey… can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah." Bruce exhaled into the stretch.

"You got a girlfriend?"

Bruce coughed a laugh as they split off to finish up. "Dunno. If I did, she thinks I'm dead, so…"

"Who was it?"

He pulled the towel from his gym bag and hesitated. After a shrug, he said, "Name's Jarella."

Wade's face burst into an open-mouthed smile. "The _stylist_? Gorgeous and green? And that _smile!_ You dog!"

Bruce couldn't help but blush a bit. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a dog. A regular Saint Bernard." He looked for a change of subject, but as usual, once he started thinking about _her,_ it was difficult to focus on anything else. "Why'd'ya ask?"

Wilson sighed heavily, and they walked across to the locker rooms in silence.

They turned up the steam so the showers were full of fog. Wade usually did some singing while they were in there, so Bruce wasn't surprised when he started up.

" _There's no way I can pronounce Neo Geo Evangelion, I can't refute 'cause she's so cute, and so I suck my belly in …"_ Wade half sang, though he was dancing along to his own rhythm as he sang, and put some real hip into it as he hit what was apparently the chorus, though the words sounded jumbled.

After an encore, he started talking again instead, evidently more comfortable when he didn't have to see who he was talking to. "So… you know Cassie Lang?"

Bruce startled, unseen, and then shrugged. "Sure. Short, perky, been here a while? Kind of… adorable?"

He heard Wade chuckle. "Yeaaaaah."

"I see her around, we haven't talked much. What about her?"

"She's kind of… adorable, right? And super duper sweet."

"I think I just said that."

"Right. So there's probably no chance she'd consider…" The boy stopped, and Bruce heard him groan quietly into the water.

"Hang on. You like her?"

A bubbling noise came from across the showers. "I dunno. Maybe. Could be." Then a bit of a sighing note. "How would I know?"

Bruce frowned a laugh as he rinsed his hair. "Dude. Why wouldn't she like you?"

"C'mon Brucie. Career. Trained killer. Ugly as a mud fence. What's to like?"

"Okay, okay, we'll skip that part. Why would you like her?"

A less than dignified snort echoed in the room. "Have you _met her_? She's sweet, doesn't judge ... she's freakin' adorable and crazy smart... easy to talk to _and_ she makes me laugh."

Bruce exhaled as he turned off his shower and grabbed a towel. "Okay. So, you sound compatible. Except for the adorable part. Nothing against you, pal, but you're just not my type."

"Not green enough?"

Banner rolled his eyes but was grinning nonetheless. "Something like that."

They moved out into the locker room, wrapped in towels, and kept talking over the bank of lockers that separated them. "Listen, Wade. If you're asking me to ask—"

"Whaaat? No! Jesus, I'm a big boy, I can do it myself, big papa Banner - we're not in grade school. But…you know. If you happen to notice anything? Or if she says anything?"

Bruce nodded. "I'll keep my eyes open."

They were dressed and walking back down the hallway to their rooms before Wade spoke again.

"Yo, Bruce."

"Yeah?"

"You won't tell her I'm interested, right?"

He was careful to make sure the grin didn't sound in his voice. He would never do that to a friend. "Of course not."

"Thanks."

* * *

 _December 24_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"So… how'd it go?" Kate couldn't resist asking as soon as Bobbi gave her even half an opening for conversation during their training that morning.

In response, Bobbi blinked in a failed attempt at looking innocent, then had to break into a huge grin. "Is that why you're off today?" she asked. "Your focus is shot."

"Call it a little sister's protective urge. Had it with Susan, I guess I have it with Clint," she said with an easy shrug.

"It went fine," Bobbi assured the younger woman, shaking her head at the earnestness she saw in Kate's expression. "He's pretty funny when he wants to be," she added, the grin getting wider as she said it.

"I hope for your sake you didn't _tell_ him that," Kate teased as she leaned against the wall and picked up her water bottle.

"Well, not outright," she replied.

"Good, because that'll inflate his ego." Kate just grinned at her and took a long drink of water. "He doesn't need to get more ridiculous that he already is, Bobbi."

"He … can get worse then?" she teased. "This needs exploring."

"You've heard his puns, haven't you?" Kate pulled a face. "They get worse with time."

"I have, and they're _better_ after a couple glasses of wine." She tipped her head a bit. "Give or take."

"When did you see him drunk? Were you — were you _getting him drunk in the Capitol_?" Kate asked with a mock scandalized look.

"No, nothing like that," she said, waving her off. But then she paused. "Well. He did go overboard at the Career pack meeting, but .. no. We had a little wine yesterday. With our little picnic."

"Okay, first of all, that is adorable. He took you out on a picnic?" Kate was bouncing in place. "That is too cute and _such_ a Clint thing to do. But second, and more importantly, where did you even _get_ wine and how long have you been conspiring to get my Hawkeye drunk?" Kate was clearly excited about the whole thing, but by the time she got there, she had put on her sternest expression, her index finger leveled Bobbi's way with a glare that was completely betrayed by the joyful little sparkle in her eyes.

"First things first — _he_ brought the wine trying to get _me_ liquored up." Bobbi scrunched her nose up and put both hands on her hips. "Get your facts straight."

"That doesn't sound like him. He's never even kissed a girl, much less liquored one up," Kate countered with one hand on her hip to mirror Bobbi's stance.

"Could have fooled me," she said dryly. "He seemed to have a pretty good handle on what he was doing."

"Wait. _Wait_." Kate turned to face Bobbi fully as the slow smile spread over her face. "That. That is the most adorable thing I've heard all day. Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?"

"Yes. Why?"

Kate beamed. "Oh, that just… yes. Yes, you can date my Hawkeye."

"You're too kind," Bobbi laughed. "We'll see." She picked up her own water bottle to take a swig, and for a moment, she looked more serious. "I think he might be a little gunshy, to be honest."

"You know about his district partner. I mean. You saw the Games," Kate pointed out.

"Yes," Bobbi said, nodding her head in understanding. "I know. Everyone knows. But ... I won't really have a chance to explore it until after the tour."

"Yeah. I'm really gonna miss you around here," Kate admitted with a heavy sigh. "I like North, but you're my favorite trainer."

"Only because I'm kissing your Hawk," Bobbi teased.

"You make him happy," Kate agreed, not teasing in the slightest.

"I make him happy? We've been on one date. _One_."

"Yeah. You made him happy even _before_ you were dating him." Kate shrugged. "Dunno why sparring with you does that, but whatever you're doing, please keep doing that thing, because grumpy Clint is _not_ my favorite thing. _No_ idea what to do with him."

"Yeah, he's no fun like that. Which ... is how we got sparring. I kicked his butt with my hands behind my back," she told Kate with a grin.

"And there was no audience?" Kate looked at Bobbi in disbelief. "You've failed me, Mockingbird. Utterly and completely." Bobbi gave her a flat look.

"Knowing how Fury and this place runs? I'm sure it's on tape somewhere," she said dryly. "But you'll have to just keep an eye on him yourself. I have to go home tomorrow morning."

"Don't worry — we have plans for some hot cocoa and Christmas fun, so I'll make sure he stays warm and fuzzy for your next picnic," Kate said, the grin stretching practically to her ears.

"If he even _wants_ another picnic."

"The way he was grinning over coffee this morning on the way out to the range? Yeah. He wants another picnic."

"We'll see, I suppose. Things can change fast."

Kate shrugged one shoulder up. "Yeah, we'll see," she allowed finally before she tossed Bobbi a staff. "C'mon. One more go 'round before you pack up to go see your family."

* * *

 _Tahiti Labs_

* * *

Bruce was working in the shared lab — where _his_ half was meticulously organized, and Tony Stark messily scattered his work over the other half, and then some. Frankly, they were becoming known as the odd couple of the facility.

Today, however, he was alone in the lab, staring at a paper pad scribbled with formulas and frowning. Eventually, he lifted his eyes to the screen in front of him, which displayed the same formulas, and stared at that for a while. Then he turned and looked at the white board that had, _again_ , the same formulas scrawled across it.

He shook his head, rubbing his eyes and hanging the glasses on the neck of his shirt. "Well, it doesn't seem to make any difference _how_ it's written down, I suppose that means—"

"Excuse me."

He spun around, startled but actually grateful for the interruption. The young woman who was standing near the door looking incredibly nervous and jumped a bit. Bruce instantly felt bad. "Sorry, Cassie, I was surprised. These formulas..." He motioned vaguely at his worktable and smiled sheepishly. "They're not behaving."

"It's fine."

They stood there for half a minute, quietly, while Bruce blinked and Cassie fidgeted nervously. "Ah...you okay, Cass?"

"Possibly?" she offered, trying to smile as brightly as usual and failing. "Um… you know Wade... Wade Wilson. Right?"

Since she was staring at the wall, she didn't see Bruce's eyes widen abruptly. "Yes? I mean, yes, of course. Yeah, we work out in the mornings together…he says it's better to be at the gym before other people sweat all over it. Heh. Ah…why do you ask?" Cassie looked phenomenally nervous, which made Bruce nervous, wanting to make her more comfortable. He looked around quickly and grabbed a bag of snack mix from one of Tony's tables. "Snack?"

She smiled, took exactly one peanut, and nibbled it. It probably took three bites for her to get through it as she stalled. "Um… I was wondering if I could ask you something."

Bruce quickly tried to remember just how much he could say to her if she asked how Wade felt, and realized the answer was _nothing_. He nodded. "Sure, sure, of course. What's up?"

"Well, it's Wade. He's so… I mean, just so sweet, and… I don't know if he likes me or not or if he's just being… him." She rubbed one arm as she stood on the opposite foot. "He's nice to everyone; I don't want to just assume…"

Bruce smiled and opened his mouth to answer but didn't get the chance.

"I mean, I wouldn't ask just anyone, but you seem like a really honorable person, really grown up, and I know you won't say anything if he asks…"

Bruce put his hand to his forehead before running it back through his hair. It was going to be a long week.

"Oh…" Cassie's face fell for a moment. "I'm bothering you."

"No, no, it's not that… it's… ah…" He turned back to the monitor and clicked a few unnecessary keys. "Ah… have you talked to _him_ about it?"

"No," Cassie admitted in a smaller voice. "I don't want to… he's just…"

"Okay, okay, I can see that it would feel… um… awkward." He frowned at the monitor and rolled his eyes skyward. _Talk about awkward._ Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Cassie… maybe you should come to the gym some morning when we're working out. You might get a better feel for him? How he… ah… feels?"

"Oh!" She nodded a few times as she thought it over. "Yes, that — that would work. Yes, okay. Ah… super early right?"

"We're usually there really early, yeah. About five. And if you need an… um… excuse, or anything, I can show you some workout techniques. Some weight work you might find useful."

"To look less like a shrimp, you mean," she said sheepishly.

He grinned. "I don't really think you have to worry about that."

"I do, though — everyone else here… they can fight and do amazing things…"

Bruce sighed and fiddled with a stylus from the desk. "Cassie, you'd be amazed at how many people worry about how they look to other people."

She blushed crimson at that and then gingerly took one more peanut. "I… thanks. I'll just… I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Great. See you then." Bruce smiled at her as she turned to go and waited until she was out the door before exhaling a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He turned back to the monitor and glanced at the formulas again. "Oh, wait! This should be…" He was changing the hydrogen carbon balances when he felt like someone was behind him. A male voice spoke in his ear.

"That should be a six, man."

"Nope. It's a three."

"Your loss. Gonna blow us all up, though."

"Not with this. It's a new polymer. What's up, Wade?"

The boy circled the room, picking things up and putting them back upside down or balanced precariously. "I thought I saw Cassie come in here."

Bruce sighed inwardly. "Yeah, she did."

"Did she… ah... mention me?" He picked up a precision caliper and two pens and began juggling.

Banner walked over and took the delicate instrument out of rotation, putting it back in its case and tossing him another pen instead. "Your ADHD is showing, pal."

"Yeah, but did she mention me?" Wade asked, catching the remaining pens with a flourish.

Bruce hesitated, echoes of 'grown up' and 'honorable' sounding in his head. "Ah, just in passing. She's wondering about strength training, so I said if she stopped by during our morning workout, I'd show her some reps that might help." He ran the sentence over again in his head, and nodded. _Safe_.

"She's coming? Tomorrow? To the gym?" Wade's expression teetered between excitement and terror. "Really?"

Bruce faked a yawn as he typed. "I think so. She seemed interested in learning some stuff…"

Wade stared at him openly for a good long time, absently twirling one pen between the fingers of his right hand. It was likely he didn't even know he was doing it. Finally, he opened his mouth to say something, but what came out was more or less a squawking noise rather than anything resembling words before Wade turned on his heel and rushed off.

Bruce sat back and shook his head. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

* * *

 _December 25th_

 _Noh-Varr's Apartment_

* * *

It was early Christmas morning when Jubilee showed up at Noh's apartment with gifts in tow, and dressed all in green as one of Santa's elves. She just couldn't help herself with the opportunity to do that, and the grin it got from Doreen when she saw her outfit the other day was enough on its own to make her decide that this was going to be a new tradition.

Before she knocked on the door, she took an extra moment to adjust her little elf hat and check that the little sprig of mistletoe wasn't crooked as it sat on her lapel. She took a deep breath, smirk firmly in place as she tucked her gift for him under her arm and knocked.

She'd clearly woken him up, to her delight — because when he opened the door, he was dressed in just some red pajama pants, his white hair still a bit mussed with sleep, though he immediately lost any semblance of sleepiness when he saw her and swept her up in a spinning hug that brought her into the apartment when he set her down.

"You look stunning," he said, looking over her outfit before his gaze landed on the mistletoe and he swept her up once more, this time for a kiss. "Merry Christmas!"

She grinned brilliantly at him before he let her feet touch the ground. "That's why I'm here, to wish you a Merry Christmas and make sure you're not miserable and alone on this beautiful Christmas morning."

He beamed at her and kissed her again. "You are so thoughtful, Jubilee," he told her warmly as he took her by the hand to lead her to the kitchen so he could get them both some coffee to start off the morning. "If I'd known you would be here so early, I would have had more prepared — perhaps chocolate chip pancakes."

"That sounds nice," she said. "But …" She pushed the wrapped present his way. "Word at the pole is that you've been amazingly good this year."

"Oh yes," he agreed with a little smirk. "I haven't been to any parties filled with evil drink and debauchery since the Games."

"Well I'm told the Games brings out the worst in everyone," she said with a little wave.

"Yes, that's why I'll be glad to put them behind me soon," he said with a twinkle in his eyes as he handed her a red-striped mug decorated to look like a candy cane.

"The tour doesn't last that long, does it? I mean. I know they're edited, but …"

"Well, you do have to travel to every single district, and the travel time is of course what is edited most," Noh said diplomatically before he started to grin. "Don't worry — it really isn't be too horrible, at least in my experience, and I promise to meet you with a glass of champagne when you return to the Capitol."

"At least there's that," she said, still grinning as she finally finished sugaring up her coffee.

"But that's not what I meant when I said I would be putting the Games behind me," Noh said, handing her a peppermint stick to stir her coffee.

Her smile fell a bit as she watched him. "You're not leaving me, are you?"

"Leaving _you_? Never," he said, shaking his head. "Leaving the Games… well, this will be my fourth year as a Games stylist, and I think a Quarter Quell is a good note to end on, don't you?"

"You mean ... you're not … _why_?"

He watched her for a moment, looking a little put out by her reaction. "I … am tired of the politics of the Games. And I'm tired of being told it's improper for me to date you." He paused. "And I would very much like to do that. Date you, that is. As nice as little parties and secret kisses are, I am no good for subtlety and secrecy."

The smile started to return as she thought it over. "But what will you _do_?"

"You act as if there are not positions for stylists all over the Capitol. I'm sure I can find something — albeit less high-profile and lucrative. I hope you don't mind a downsize in a boyfriend," he said with a little blush that showed up as purple on his dyed-blue skin.

Jubilee set her mug down and crossed the short space between them to grab him by the sides of the head and pull him into a kiss. "I don't care about your wallet, silly."

"Just my coffee and pancakes," he teased her, though he looked a bit relieved by her reaction. "And music."

"More like kisses and cuddles," she corrected.

He pulled her up into a longer kiss for a moment, and she let out a little gasp when he just scooped her up so he could reach her better. When the kiss finally broke, he was positively _beaming_. "I haven't told anyone — I'll speak to our superiors at the Games after the Quarter Quell. I do still want to be around for _that_."

"Oh, good," she said, running her fingers through his hair to straighten it up a bit. "I don't know that I'll make it through this first one without you."

"If it helps, I can always kiss you publicly and let those blasted rumors die in their tracks," he offered with a little grin.

"Please don't. If you did that, they'd say that's why you left," she said, rolling her eyes a bit.

"Isn't it?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "I told you I'd like to be with you — my being tired of the Games is a secondary reason at best compared to you."

"Yes, but I don't want them saying it's because you were chased off," she pointed out. "I'm finally starting to really see how they twist things for their dramas."

"You've always been a quick study," Noh agreed. He set her down so that she was sitting on the counter as he started to make some breakfast for the two of them, humming Christmas tunes under his breath as he did so. "I'm just sorry your studies are of such ridiculous drama and not something better suited for you like parties and design work," he added her way.

"I guess I should have done my homework more before signing up for this mess," she said with a sheepish look.

"You weren't even sixteen yet — frankly, the job uses young minds like yours just as readily as it uses everything else," he said in a low tone before he straightened a bit and added quickly, "At least, that's how it feels sometimes," in the tone he usually used when correcting himself in public to what he was _supposed_ to say.

"Well, the tour will start soon, and we can start our own private countdown until we can start up publicly." She grinned his way and then bounded over with her presents. "I looked _everywhere_ for this," she said as she pushed it his way.

"And here I thought the little Christmas elf was my present," he teased her as he took the gift from her.

"Well you haven't unwrapped that either," she shot back with a little giggle.

"It's still early," he countered, gesturing at his own pajama-clad self before he tore the wrapping off of the present and just… stared at the record. It was a B-side of his favorite song, a Ronettes classic, and it took him a full minute or two to bring his gaze back to Jubilee, who looked positively _tickled_ at how well her gift had gone over.

"Merry Christmas!" she said, beaming at him brighter than any Christmas lights could.

In response, the normally eloquent stylist didn't say a thing except to rush over and scoop her up and simply attack her with kisses.

* * *

 _Tahiti Training Room_

* * *

Cassie arrived at the training room early that morning. It was Christmas morning, and even with all the missions coming up in just a few days, nobody _really_ wanted to be up and training, and the schedule was light. But… Bruce had said that he and Wade would be there, and sure enough, there they were, already doing a few laps around the track.

She had been a little later than she planned to be, because of course today, of all days, was the day that she woke up with some of the worst bedhead she'd ever had in her _life_. And sure, it was the training room, and people got sweaty and gross in training — but she didn't want to look like that _before_ she even got started!

She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, the end of which she tugged unconsciously as she watched the two boys running the track above her head. Ever since the mission she'd gone out on with Wade… she got butterflies every time she saw him, and that morning was no different. He always looked so graceful when he was fighting and working out — except when he decidedly _didn't_.

Like, for example, when she started stretching to warm up and heard a crashing sound above her head that meant Wade had run into something.

"Sweet, sweet Cassie Lang!" he called out to her when she glanced up to see that he had stopped running altogether and was leaning over the edge to wave down at her. "What are you doing here on this fine Christmas morning? Shouldn't you still be off somewhere sugarplum-dreaming?"

She giggled at that, nervously smiling before she glanced to Bruce, who at least looked encouraging. She nodded once at Bruce, swallowed, and glanced Wade's way. "Ah… Bruce said… he said he could help me with some weight programs," she offered.

Wade's shoulders slumped the slightest bit as he considered her answer. "Oh, so you came here for Brucie, huh?"

"Oh! Well. Yes?" Cassie bit her lip. "He … said you'd be here too, though. And that — I mean… D'you-mind-if-I-join-you?" she asked in a rush.

Wade broke into a beaming smile. "Why would I mind? C'mon up, Sweet Cassie Lang!" he practically sang out her way, and she felt the relieved smile fill her face as she took the stairs two at a time to get up to the high-level track.

A little breathless from the run up the stairs, Cassie gestured for the boys to go ahead and take a lap without her while she caught her breath and slowly got warmed up. Besides, being all of five feet tall herself, she wasn't exactly going to be able to keep up with the two of them — especially Wade, with his longer legs. She was only a third of the way through her jog when the boys caught up to her and noticeably slowed to keep pace with her as she flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh... don't — don't let me slow you down!" she puffed. "You guys just — do whatever you do. I'm slow, I know."

"Well, it's a slow kind of morning. Christmas morning, good for taking it easy…" Wade trailed off and grinned her way before he started to jog backwards. "Right, Brucie?"

"Oh yeah, sure," Bruce said with a little nod. He had slowed to a jog as well and, Cassie noticed, seemed to be regarding both of them at once as if he was trying to gauge whether or not he was needed — or wanted.

"I guess…" Cassie looked over both of the boys haltingly before she nodded once — though now that Wade was in step with her and running in a way that let him face her, she was suddenly at a loss as to how to move forward.

 _Bruce said I could get a feel for… for how he feels. How do I even_ do _that?_ she thought to herself, lips pursed in a frown.

But she must have taken too long to get her feet under her, because she could see Wade already losing a bit of his focus, humming songs under his breath since he wasn't _really_ running, just keeping pace with her. She paused and slowed down, and he did as well, though now the humming turned to full-on singing as he broke into Christmas songs as they almost just _walked_ around the track instead of running or jogging.

"... _I really can't stay …. But Cassie it's cold outside … I've got to go 'way, … but Cassie it's cold outside ... "_ He was smiling to himself as he continued through the song — customizing it for their little walk, but singing genuinely well as he did so. " _... this morning has been so very nice_ — _I'll hold your hands, they're cold as ice …"_ He paused for just a moment and just grinned wider at her blush before he offered her his hand. "I won't bite."

She flushed a little pinker and reached out to take his hand. For a long moment, she just stared at their hands and then, very quietly, not quite able to remember what verse he'd been on, she muttered out a very quiet, very soprano, " _I oughta say no, no, no sir_."

Wade just grinned as he answered her …" _mind if I move in closer …_ "

" _At least I'm gonna say that I tried_ ," she said, starting to build up steam.

" _What's the sense in hurting my pride?_ "

She was starting to turn really pink now, but she couldn't stop grinning. " _I really can't stay…_ "

" _Cassie, don't hold out_ ," he sang with a little laugh.

She was giggling by the time they got to the part they were supposed to sing in tandem, so her "cold outside" was more or less a mess of suppressed laughter.

"You have a lovely voice, Miss Cassielang," Wade said, beaming at her.

She grinned excitedly and bounced in place. "You do too."

"We oughta sing more together then," he replied.

She nodded, still grinning. "I don't know very many duets," she said. "Or… many songs."

"Well, maybe I can teach you a few," he offered. "Tis the season, after all."

She bit her lip and nodded at that. "Yes. Please."

Wade just smiled her way and the two of them started chatting quietly over Christmas carols, with Bruce smirking to himself as he slipped down the stairs to give them a little bit of privacy.

* * *

 _District Seven_

* * *

It was mid-morning when Mac came around to wake up Logan, sure that his old friend had tied one on the night before, as he'd done from time to time — though with far less regularity than when he'd first returned to Seven.

He wasn't wrong, either. When he got there, Logan was still asleep, in a chair near the woodburner whose fire had burnt out hours ago.

"Hey, you gotta get up," Mac said as he pushed at Logan's knee with his boot — history had taught him not to get _too_ close to wake him up, and that was as close as Mac was willing to go after the right hook that he got tagged with last time. "Heather's coming over with company. We're going to do the Christmas thing, so … try to do something to _not_ smell like a whiskey still, okay?"

Logan cracked one eye open and glared at him for a moment before he let out a deep breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Why?"

"Because she takes it as a personal insult when you blow her off in favor of getting wasted," Mac said. "And you already did that twice this week, so you're out of chances, bud."

"Fine." With that, Logan got to his feet — his arms out as he was a bit wobbly, and he trudged upstairs to clean up and change before Heather could read him the riot act.

Mac just shook his head at him and headed into the kitchen to start up a pot of coffee while he waited for his friend to get it together, or his wife to show — one or the other.

As it turned out, Heather beat out Logan, arriving at the door with a flock of kids from the orphanage, all of them bound and determined to help. They were each carrying something — from the little three-year-old with her wooden serving spoon that she held like a big honor; to Scott, who had Elsie Dee on his shoulders and the roast under his arm. Elsie, for her part, was half holding onto Scott's hair and directing all the other little ones on where to go and what to do, giggling madly the whole time.

"He's up," Mac told Heather as she got the kids to set down their little parade of goodies on the kitchen table. "Grumpy, but up."

"Good. Then he can help when he gets back down here," Heather said with a nod as she helped one of the little boys set the table, pushing the plates further onto the table when he couldn't quite get them on all the way.

"I'll get the fire going again," Mac offered, quick to slip out of the kitchen and dining room, though half of the kids followed him, giggling and insisting that they could help him too.

When Logan did finally come down, quietly trying to slip around the commotion, he made his way to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup before he quietly leaned against the counter to watch the pandemonium.

When Elsie noticed him, though, she pulled on Scott's hair to get him to turn Logan's way and take her over to her friend, all but kicking him with the heels of her feet when he didn't move fast enough — even though he had been putting down the silverware at the time and didn't want the littlest kids to get hold of the knives. He finally took her over to where Logan was, and she yanked and pulled to be let down — but on the counter, so she could be taller than Logan still and still give him a proper hug, since Scott had shot up a good foot in the past few months and was therefore too tall for her to reach Logan for hugs while she was on his shoulders.

"Merry Christmas!" she told him as she wrapped herself around his neck.

"Same to you, half pint," Logan replied as he tried to keep her from knocking his coffee loose. "How'd you talk Slim here into carryin' you around?"

Scott raised both eyebrows at the nickname before he just shook his head at Logan as Elsie declared, "I just told him to, and he said he would if I said 'please'!"

"Careful there, Slim. Keep that up and you'll end up with a girl like Heather pushing you around every step you make."

Scott just shrugged. "Got her to say 'please' didn't I?" he said with a smirk Elsie's way, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Hey, why don't you go direct the rest of the lollipop kids and lay off your horse for five minutes?" Logan suggested to Elsie.

"I _like_ being taller than everyone," Elsie argued for a hot minute before she held out her arms for Logan to help her hop down from the counter so she could do just as he'd suggested and go direct traffic.

He set his coffee down and picked her up just to toss her in the air and let her hang upside down while he carried her into the living room. "How's the view from down there?"

She giggled uncontrollably as she tried to walk her hands along the ground with his feet, and he had to be careful where he stepped. "Mr. Mac has big feet," she decided as she just kept right on giggling.

"You know what else he's got?" Logan said. "I told him to pick up some candy for you guys. You should go get him until he gives it up."

She grinned at that, twisting to try and see him while she was still upside-down. "Ooh, yes! Is he ticklish? Heather is ticklish. So is Scott-Slim."

"I've never tried to tickle him," Logan said with one eyebrow raised. "Guess you'll need to figure it out."

"Okay!" she declared as she wriggled to be let down, and all of maybe ten seconds after she reached the other kids, they were working en masse to take down the tall Sentinel for their promised sweets.

Logan just turned back to the kitchen for his coffee, where Heather was working at a brisk pace. "You know, when I asked you guys to give them candy, I didn't mean to bring them _here_ to do it," he told her as he leaned against the counter again.

"You love it," she said, waving a hand over her shoulder as she didn't even break pace.

"There are a hundred people I can think of off the top of my head better for these kids to hang around," Logan argued.

"They _like_ you," Heather countered. "And they like it here. You know little Elsie brought a whole group of them here earlier to hide from the cold."

"Did she now?" Logan said with a little frown.

"Yes," Heather said, looking toward the living room to be sure they were occupied before she added, "You know those kids've been dealing with a lot, especially in the winter. This place is a safe space for them. Elsie seems to think it's safe from monsters who live out in the woods."

"She's not wrong," Logan agreed. "Certain monsters are banned from coming here."

"She's smart enough to catch onto that," Heather agreed. "I found a whole group of them one morning, just waiting for me — so I'll just keep right on inviting myself over, thank you very much."

"Like you needed another excuse," he replied. "You already took the spare key."

"Yes, yes I did," she agreed. "Besides, you have all this _space_ , Logan. Let's use it — and maybe you won't be so lonely in this big house, huh?"

"I'd rather just not be here," he said quietly. "It's a rotten reminder."

She reached over and put a hand on his arm. "Well, we're trying to make it as festive as we can. Whatever you're carrying around, it's hard to carry when you've got an arm full of Elsie Dee directing her troops," she added with a little teasing smile.

"Well — you know the door's open while I'm gone. Have at it."

"More fun _with_ you," she countered. "And a little more legal," she added with a small smirk. "You don't want us getting in trouble for using a victor's house the way it's not intended, would you?"

"Your husband's a Sentinel," he pointed out. "I doubt you'd get arrested. And if you're going to do that kind of thing, keep it at your house, okay?"

She grinned at him as she put the finishing touches on her potatoes. "Go get the kids — _and_ the giant kid I married — would you?" she said, shooing him with a spatula in one hand.

"Sure, Mom," he replied with a little smirk as he slipped to the doorway and let out a shrill whistle. "Hey. She wants you."

Heather just gave him a _look_ before the flock of kids came pouring in, all babbled excitement and red, sweaty faces from trying to tickle Mac — who for his part looked like he had lost a battle with an army of little kids. Elsie was back to riding on Scott's shoulders, somehow, though another little boy was riding Mac piggyback and it seemed like the kids were all clamoring for turns as they came in.

Heather directed them all to take a seat, and she was sure to grab Logan to make him sit at one end, though Elsie pushed Scott until he took a seat so she could sit between the two young men with a wide grin, tickled with her corner of the table and the seating arrangement.

"Did you say thank you to Logan for letting us use his house?" Heather prompted the kids, which prompted a chorus of 'thank you's from all of them, including a little eleven-year-old boy named Oliver who did the full 'thank you for letting us use your house' that had a few of the others giggling madly.

"You're welcome," Logan rumbled to the little guy, shaking his head. "Did you thank Heather for cooking for you?"

Again, there was a chorus of 'thank you's, though this time more of the kids joined in with the little dark-haired boy with the full 'thank you for cooking for us,' which had half of them in full-on laughter as Logan smirked at Heather.

She just blushed a bit and shook her head at Logan and the kids before they all dug into the meal, with the adults and some of the older kids making it a point to help the youngest keep from getting _too_ messy. Mac in particular somehow ended up with a shy little girl practically in his lap who would watch him take a bite, blink, and then do the same with a little smile.

The kids were good through most of the meal until the first little ones finished their food, and then the swarm started again, this time around Logan as Mac shot him a little smirk that meant he had totally set the kids up to this.

They were all pulling on his arms and legs one way or another and _insisting_ that he play with them, big eyes and pouty lips coming out to do the convincing.

"Hey — why don't you take Slim outside for a snowball fight?" Logan suggested.

"Who is Slim?" asked one of the younger boys, wrinkling up his nose.

"The big, tall skinny one," Logan said, glancing toward Scott.

"His name is _Scott_ ," the little boy said before he patted Logan's hand. "It's okay. There are a lot of us with names to remember."

"I think I'll just call him Slim," Logan said to him low. "I like it better."

"Can I call him Slim?" the little boy whispered back.

"I don't see why not," Logan replied. "It fits him."

The little boy's entire face lit up, and he ran off to go grab 'Slim' to try and round up a snowball fight, and it wasn't long before all of the kids from the orphanage were in the backyard throwing snow at each other — mostly at the older kids — and squealing and screaming with delight.

"You should go out and play too," Heather suggested to Logan. "They clearly want you to."

"Nah," he said shaking his head lightly. "They're fine, and I'm still a little hungover."

She gave him a little look and crossed her arms. "You better not be next year, or I'll just have them drag you out like a hunting trophy."

"Sure you will," Logan said with a dry look.

"I'm serious, Logan. How can you say no to these kids?"

"It's pretty easy," he said with a little shrug. "No."

"It's Christmas, Logan. Go have a little fun. Or at least pretend to for five minutes and let _them_ have a little fun, huh?"

"Maybe next time," he said, moving to go sit by the fire again.

She just let out all her breath and shook her head at him before she started to pull on her coat. "Well, _I_ am going to go play with them. And I'll be on Elsie's team, so I will win."

"Yeah, good luck trying to figure out which one you'll adopt first," Logan called back to her. "Looking forward to whoever my little brother or sister will be."

"And I expect you to take good care of them too!" she called back.

"For as long as I'm around, sure."

"The kids come on Fridays, Logan," she said pointedly. "If you want a say in it, you'll come by then too."

Mac just chuckled a bit when the door closed behind Heather and then leaned back on the couch. "Don't tempt her. If I wasn't a Sentinel, that whole orphanage would be Hudsons."

"Maybe you oughta look for other employment options then," Logan suggested. "She couldn't be more obvious about it if she found a way to dress them alike."

"What, and go back to Two?" Mac shook his head. "Sorry, but I think you're stuck with us."

"For a while anyhow, right?" Logan said. "How long until your contract is up?"

"Another couple of years," Mac said. "Heather keeps pushing me to extend it so we don't have to go somewhere else. She's really put down roots here."

"She's gonna be mad if they switch you," he said.

"Don't I know it. And Dugan knows it too," Mac said with a little smirk. "So I think we might be able to extend it, if she keeps on at this rate." He leaned back and tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling, closing his eyes and just relaxing by the fire. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Yeah, same to you," Logan replied, just staring at the fire. It had been _years_ since he'd been with anyone for the holidays, and as nice as it was, it was still odd for him to even be considering celebrating anything, let alone with what little family he cared to acknowledge and a whole herd of otherwise unwanted kids.

* * *

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

The kids in the Tahiti program were putting their every creative bone to good use as they came upon Christmas. They had absolutely nothing to their names, so it was hard to come up with anything for gifts, but they got creative where they could.

Wade had of course been sure to decorate the place as best he could, enlisting the help of anyone tall enough to be considered able to get to those hard-to-reach places. And Ororo had poured her charm on to get the kitchen staff to put on a fabulous Christmas meal.

But a few people managed to find a way to give personalized gifts all the same, with some outside help on occasion — like Bruce, who had asked Cecilia to find Sin's pocketknife from Six, so he could give it to her for Christmas.

"Oh… oh my god," Sinthea looked amazed as she gingerly took the knife from Bruce, afraid it would vanish when she touched it. "Did you go to Six?" For the moment, all she could think of was Crossbones. Had Bruce seen him? Had he missed her?

"I thought the gang girl might like her weapon of choice," he chuckled softly. "You're welcome."

She was having none of it. "Crap. Did you go to Six, schoolboy?"

"Not lately, no." He shook his head. "But I had someone else get it for me."

She wasn't sure if she was happy about that or upset. Part of her was glad Bruce hadn't seen Crossbones, but at the same time, she wondered what her best friend back home would think of losing the pocketknife. After a long pause, she nodded. "I didn't get you anything, schoolboy," she said, looking a bit put out.

"Wasn't expecting you to. I was just... trying to be nice. No reciprocation needed. Merry Christmas," Bruce replied, his eyes growing serious for a moment as he looked at her. "I'm still glad you're okay."

"Merry Christmas," she said, flipping the knife over and over in her hands. "And...I'm glad you're okay, too," she added as she grinned quietly to herself.

Kate had also gotten a little outside help for her present to Kurt, and like Bruce, she hadn't been expecting anything but a kiss this year, so she was surprised when she tracked down Kurt that he was also holding something behind his back.

"Okay," she said, holding her own present behind her back. "We are at an impasse…. On three?" she offered with a brilliant smile.

He nodded with a grin and started to count. When he hit three, they both presented their gifts and stared at each other for a moment.

Kurt had recently gone out on a mission with Sin to Twelve, and he hadn't come back empty-handed — he'd brought home a snowdrop for Kate to remind her of home. The sweet little blossom was just beginning to open and hung like a pearl's tear. It was clear by the wavering, watery look in her eyes that she loved it. "Oh, Kurt…"

It was more of a thank-you than he had ever hoped for.

As for Kate, she had asked for Charles' help since he had an extensive library already — though with how tightly the Capitol had cracked down on things like _this_ , it had been hard to find. But there, in her hands, was a slightly worn but still beautiful black, leather-bound book. In gold-leafed, gothic lettering, the cover read 'Holy Bible'. Kurt swallowed hard and looked somewhere between awestruck and incredulous.

" _Gott im Himmel._ " Kurt whispered hoarsely as he looked the book over with wide eyes. "How did you get hold of this?"

"Charles found it," Kate said, cradling her snowdrop to her chest and beaming. "He knows where all the good books are, after all."

"Apparently so," he said with a grin before he glanced both ways and spotted the camera with the little red light on. "Later, I'll be sure to thank you properly."

She flushed a bit and nodded, letting out a little giggle before she darted forward, hugged him quickly, and hurried off to find a place to set her plant.

On her way, Kate passed Ororo busily hanging a _gorgeous_ pencil drawing that perfectly captured her likeness, only somehow… she looked older, and more regal. There was no need to ask who had drawn it, since half the compound had seen Steve with his hands pencil-smudged, but it was something else to see the finished product in person. He really had a talent.

And Kurt passed Clint coming out of his room looking really rather pleased with himself — he had found the pair of new gloves, perfectly fitted and a deep shade of purple that he could pass off as matching his black suit if he tried. There had been a note with the gloves — _Chin up. -B_ — that had him grinning that much wider and more than a little disappointed that Bobbi was gone for the holidays.

They weren't the only couples marking the holidays, either. Tony had been locked away for days before Christmas, and when he finally emerged, it was to shower and change and then go find Pepper so she could see what he'd made for her. Since she wasn't really a fighter — SHIELD had brought her back more or less as a medical experiment to see how much Tahiti could fix — she had been working with Coulson of all people to learn administrative tasks around there, and she was a natural. So — Tony made her a tablet to keep everything organized.

"It's voice key activated, so you can set the password to anything you want as soon as you speak into it," Tony explained with the usual flush of pleasure that accompanied him showing off his talents.

Pepper smiled at him widely and seemed to think about it for a moment before she held the tablet up to just below her chin and said, "Thanks, Tony," very clearly to get the tablet to activate for her — which had both of them blushing a bit more.

And out in the rec room, where everybody was set to meet up for their party, Wade was still humming Christmas tunes and happily decorating when Cassie snagged him around the shoulders with the loop of a scarf she had clearly made in her spare time — as something to do with her hands while she was reading and studying.

"You don't have to tie me up," Wade blinked with false innocence.

She grinned at him with a little blush. "It's supposed to go around your neck, but ... you were distracted and I saw an opportunity and…" She turned a little redder. "Merry Christmas."

"I love it. My favorite color," he said with a grin before he picked her up to spin her around in a hug. "Merry Christmas to you, sweet Cassie Lang."

They had only just completed the spin when Peter let out a triumphant "a-HA!" from where he had been sitting in the corner pretty much all day, but when both Cassie and Wade gave him questioning looks, he just beamed and shook his head. "No, this is for _everyone_. We have to wait for the full gathering," he said, looking entirely pleased with himself over whatever it was.

The others trickled in little by little, and still, Peter wouldn't spill his little secret until they were _all_ gathered and waiting. "What's the big idea, Spider-kid?" Tony asked as he leaned against the back of the couch.

Peter just held a finger up to his lips and then slipped over to one corner of the room where the most obvious camera was, stood directly underneath it, and clicked a device in his hands. Once he'd done that, he spun on his heel. "Five minutes of off-camera fun — go!" he announced, throwing out his arms wide and theatrically.

For Kate and Kurt, there was hardly any hesitation as both of them almost immediately reached for each other, and they were very quickly wrapped up in a long and tender kiss — which was nothing like what Tony had done as he swept Pepper off her feet in a dip and kissed her hard, then pulled her back upright and looked halfway nervous as he watched her to see if she would get mad. But when she didn't… he just pulled her into a much longer kiss as well.

"See, now I'm sad the victors aren't here," Carol said with a bit of a pout as she watched the two resident couples wrap deeper into each other.

"I hear that," Clint muttered her way, and the two of them shared a quick smirk.

"Why, you got your eyes on one, Danvers?" Tony teased when he came up for air and Pepper was properly red-faced.

"And my hands when I can find the camera dead spots," Carol said without hesitating.

"Flight instructor in every sense of the word?" Clint asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't kiss and tell," she shot back with a satisfied sort of smirk.

The other kids meanwhile were just occupying themselves with some Christmas sweets while Peter kept an eye on the clock to be sure the couples wouldn't be caught when the cameras came back on — and Cassie edged a little closer to Wade with bright red painted all over her cheeks before she popped up on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Merry Christmas," she said, now reaching a hue that matched the patterns on his scarf.

"Okay, ten seconds!" Peter called out, which had the couples slumping their shoulders a bit but still grinning.

"We _are_ going to be repeating this countdown next week, right?" Tony asked with a grin.

"You kidding? New Year's kisses? How could we _not_?" Peter agreed, looking triumphant at the success of his little Christmas project. "I bet I could get another couple minutes, too; I've been fiddling with it, and this time you can help me, and maybe Cassie…"

"Ooh, yes, I'll help," Cassie agreed as she pushed her hair back behind her ear and looked a little less red, but only a little.

"Can't get it done without you, sweet thing," Wade muttered. "They're just a couple of monkeys with hammers otherwise."

"Yeah, girl power — is what you're saying," she teased back in a little whisper.

"Yeah, that too," he replied with a grin.

"Well, that and with missions stepping up around the tour and everyone leaving me ... I'll have a lot of alone time on my hands to help perfect Pete's designs," she said, blowing out all her breath with a little sigh. "Six days til New Years — I think I can get at least two more minutes. At the minimum."

"Oh, hey, I should probably tell you while I have you all here?" Tony said, stepping so that his back was to the camera. "I have a system rigged up for the tour. I know most of you will be in and out on missions, so it'll be hard to catch your home district, but … I'll be recording. So if you _want_ a peek at home, it'll be there for you — even if you're out and about at the time that it happens."

"That's a brilliant idea!" Peter said, nodding enthusiastically.

"They'll show the families there, won't they?" Steve asked with a small frown. "As well as any important faces — I mean, friends from the interviews?"

"Yeah, that's the big idea, big guy," Tony said. "I doubt you want to look at our murderer any more than I do. It's all about the families and home."

"I'd like to see more than just Nine," Kurt said with a little frown. "Just… to see the whole picture."

"Yeah, sure. If you _want_ to see whatever … I won't erase anything," Tony said.

" _Danke_ ," Kurt said with a little nod, though his expression said he was already lost in thought over the possibilities of what it was he might see when he did so.

"So.. it's sort of like home. For the holidays," Peter said with an attempt at a grin.

"Spider kid, that was the worst joke I've heard since they brought us back," Tony said with a look.

"Someone hasn't spent too much time around Clint," Kate whispered loud enough for everyone present to hear, which just earned her a little _look_ from her fellow Hawk.

"No, no I have not," Tony said in a mock whisper for her.

"I'll have you know _some_ people think I'm _hilarious_ ," Clint said with a haughty look.

"They aren't here right now," Carol pointed out.

"And a real shame too. Five whole minutes," Clint said, shaking his head and looking entirely disappointed before he just snagged the coffee pot and poured himself a large mug. "Well. That's not 'til next week, so ... Merry Christmas, guys."

The group all returned the sentiment and went right into the far more cordial party that they had planned on. As far as anyone watching the feed was concerned, it was as close to an office party as a bunch of teenagers could muster. Nothing overly romantic or involved as all of them were casually chatting and joking around — following every stupid rule as well as could be expected, all things considered.


	23. Set the Tone

**Notes: And now that we've had our Christmas-in-February, it's time for a little New Years' shenanigans. You know. Set the tone for the upcoming year our kids are about to face. Sadly, yes, this is** _ **exactly**_ **the tone of the year ahead of them. *sigh***

 **And of course, shoutout to Miran again, whose Bruce knowledge has been absolutely invaluable in this and the last chapter ;) She's the mastermind behind the Bruce and Wade friendship, and we LOVE IT.**

* * *

 **Chapter 23: "Set the Tone"**

* * *

 _December 26_

 _Tahiti Training Room_

* * *

The morning after Christmas, it was more than clear to Bruce that Wade was in a _great_ mood. Not only had he been able to spend all of Christmas morning singing carols with Cassie, but she has _kissed him_. On the cheek, yes, but a kiss was a kiss, as the excited young man kept repeating to Bruce, almost like a mantra through their workouts that day.

The fact that Cassie hadn't come that morning to their workouts didn't dampen his mood in the least. It was fairly clear to both of them that she'd gotten exactly what she wanted out of her visit yesterday, and somehow that only added to his joy.

Wade had moved on from humming Christmas carols the day before to a song that Bruce vaguely recognized. The former Career had so many different songs in his repertoire — most of which Bruce had never even heard of — that Bruce was sure Wade had run through that one before, probably in the shower, but it wasn't until they got there, and the steam and separation seemed to fuel Wade's enthusiasm, that there were actual words put to the tune.

" _There's a special kind of girl that goes to my shows…_ " The rest of the lyrics were temporarily drowned out as Wade stuck his face under the water, though he kept right on singing through the mouthful of water and shampoo all the same, despite how horribly garbled it ended up sounding up until he pulled his face out of the water again with, " _I'm like elixir when I'm with her… 'cause I think I like her type,_ " ringing over the wet tile.

" _She might seem shy in person, it's no lie… She's always nervous… But the verdict is she's worth it…._ " Wade was clearly dancing now, the shampoo bottle becoming a microphone as he slipped and shimmied on the tiles. " _She gets crap but don't deserve it…. She look like Emily Strange… Always ravin' bout her faves._ " He started to get louder, grinning and adding in little flourishes to his dance. " _Wanna conquer her like Kang… when you kiss like Cassie Lang!_ "

Bruce couldn't help but laugh when he heard the lyrics. Wade was prone to change songs to fit the situation, and he was sure that was the case here.

" _She's wordy and verbose, prolific and prone to prose …_ " He held out his shampoo bottle over the divide to Bruce as if inviting him to join in the song, but when Bruce just held up one hand and shook his head lightly, he continued, obviously having skipped a line or three. " _I've got many cold remedies, many old enemies, I've got a girl that kicks their ass like River from Serenity."_ With that, he struck a pose and made a little noise that sounded … so familiar to Bruce as Wade sang out 'snikt!' with a grin before he continued dancing after a spin — far more enthusiastically — and started in again over his 'nerd girl'.

But Bruce couldn't let that pass without comment, the frown creasing his features. "What… was that?" he asked almost cautiously.

"What was what?" Wade asked as he finally stopped singing, smile still firmly in place.

"That noise. Is that part of the song?"

Wade frowned in an awkward manner and just shook his head. "Could you _describe_ the noise? I'm told I make several bizarre sounds when I sing."

"This one came with a pose," Bruce said, the thoughtful frown only deepening. "What on earth is a stabbing noise doing in your love song?"

"Oh!" Wade said, his expression one of pure understanding. "Oh, _that_ … that … belongs to someone. Or … more broadly a few people, but really only one, and it's part of a sadly abandoned ship from a different timeline? It's pretty complex, but to the best of my knowledge … that doesn't apply here, since neither of them … exist… here." He drew in a deep breath. "But … it was definitely an odd couple."

"So it's just part of the song," Bruce surmised, his shoulders shrugging as he decided to let it go.

"Yeah — just a little _snikt_ doesn't mean much out of context. _And it wasn't a stabbing motion._ It was a superhero pose." He tipped his head to the side. "My swords _almost_ make that noise? But … more of a scrape? Must not be sharp enough yet."

Bruce relaxed a little more substantially and let out a breath. "Must not," he agreed, though that already had his analytical mind turning as he considered just what that meant for the familiar sound he had experienced himself. _Just how sharp_ were _those claws_? He waved Wade off with a shrug, already distracted as he considered the differences between Wade's refined blades and homemade claws… "Sorry, I interrupted your performance," he said as he turned the water off and started to towel down.

"No, no," Wade said, waving him off. "Anytime. Hell, I owe you. I can sound a little crazy sometimes. No one thinks I realize it, but I do."

Bruce stopped at the statement. "You know, that's more evidence that you're _not_ crazy than anything else," he said. "If you're aware of it."

"Yeah, but I can get away with more if they think I'm nuts," Wade pointed out as he followed Bruce's lead.

"Sure, take the easy way," Bruce said with a grin that he couldn't stop. "Not that I blame you. But y'never know — it could be better if people took you more seriously. I know you're smarter than you let people see."

"Yeah, no," Wade said, grimacing slightly.

"No what?" Bruce asked as he wiped the steam off of his glasses before hanging them on the neck of his shirt. "No, you're not smart, or…?"

"No to the serious thing," Wade said. "Too serious takes all the joy out of life."

Bruce couldn't help but chuckle as he shrugged into a flannel shirt. "If you say so, pal. But you can be taken seriously without being joyless. And you realize — I know how smart you are. I do." Their eyes met, and Bruce was almost afraid he had overstepped the bounds of their friendship.

But Wade looked at him, incredibly sincerely. "Sure, but I trust you."

* * *

 _Tahiti Library_

* * *

With Christmas in the rearview mirror, the next focus was really on getting ready for all the missions set to go out during the victory tour, which meant everyone was running plenty of last-minute training runs in the simulator room — and hitting the gym when it wasn't their turn for the sims.

Ororo, on the other hand, had managed to sneak into the kitchens yet again and was happily munching on a crisp red apple, just poking her head in various rooms to see what everyone else was up to. She'd run her own flight simulations a thousand times and was more than prepared for the next week's adventures, and she wanted to take a break from the big push.

When she got to the library, she found that she wasn't the only one who had that idea, either.

Kurt was tucked into a corner seat with the Bible that Kate had given him for Christmas, and Ororo paused in the doorway for a moment to watch him pour over its pages reverently, turning the thin sheets with a care that Ororo had never seen from him. It seemed a shame to interrupt him, so she simply leaned against the doorframe for a moment, finishing off her apple.

She had fully intended to leave him be, so when Kurt glanced up from his reading, smiled, and waved her over, Ororo paused. "I wouldn't want to interrupt," she said. "You look like you were deep in thought."

"Nonsense," Kurt said. "You aren't interrupting at all."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, sure that he was just being nice, but she came over to sit beside him all the same, peering over his shoulder at the columns of text and the well-preserved pages. "Good Christmas present?" she asked conversationally.

"The very best," he told her with a wide smile. "I didn't think I'd ever see one of these again in my life." As he spoke, he gently placed a bookmark where he was reading and closed the book, folding his hands over the leather casing.

"Where did you even manage to see one before?" she asked curiously.

"There was a priest named Father Lantom," Kurt said, his tone quiet as he thought of it. "Matt knew him too — back when people could travel in the districts a little more, he went around bringing the Gospel with him…" He trailed off and shook his head. "I don't know what happened to him, but I do know the Capitol can't have been happy with what he was doing."

"I'm sure he's probably out there somewhere teaching people," Ororo assured him with a little smile.

"Of course he is," Kurt agreed. He paused and smiled softly her way. "I don't know if I told you — that's where I learned bits of German as well."

Ororo grinned. "And here I thought you were just learning it from the library around here," she said, gesturing to the bookshelves.

"Well, that too," Kurt admitted. "But I first picked up my love of the language from him."

"And your faith," Ororo said, gesturing to the Bible that he still had so delicately perched on his knee.

"And my faith," he agreed, running one finger over the golden words on its cover. "Though as a child of God, I like to think that was already in my heart before he opened my eyes to the Gospel itself."

Ororo couldn't help but smile. "That sounds about right. You've just always been this way, haven't you?"

"That's what people keep telling me," Kurt said, chuckling quietly to himself.

"It suits you," she said.

Kurt nodded quietly, still absently tracing the cover of his Bible. "I would love to do something like that — like what Father Lantom did," he admitted.

"What — sneak around the districts teaching German and religion?" she laughed.

"Well, not _quite_ that way, but yes, more or less," Kurt laughed. "I meant I simply wanted to bring that faith — that happiness — to other people like he did with me."

"You already do that," Ororo pointed out with a little smile.

"I do?"

Her smile widened as she nodded. "Maybe you just don't notice it, but you have a way of just… bringing out the best in people, Kurt," she told him sincerely.

He looked honestly pleased at the compliment and beamed her way. " _Danke_ ," he said warmly. He gestured around the library. "You're welcome to join me here. The quiet is a nice change, _ja_?"

Ororo grinned as she looked around the shelves for a book she could read. "Yeah, it really is," she had to agree.

* * *

 _December 29_

 _Noh-Varr's Apartment_

* * *

"I honestly don't know what I'm going to do with myself. An entire holiday alone, when you have managed to make it so that has never happened these entire last five months," Noh told Jubilee, shaking his head as he watched her packing up her things. She kept half her stuff at his place at this point anyway with how often she was over, including her designing sketchbook — which she needed for the tour.

"I guess you'll have to rough it," she said with a bit of a smirk. "But we'll both be able to say hello when we all get back, right? Official probation will be over? You'll be required for parties."

"Yes, and I have already designed a stunning white outfit with black trim that shimmers like galaxies. You'll be unable to take your eyes off me all evening," he promised with a sly smile, still lying on his stomach with his chin in his hands as he watched her.

"That would be the case no matter what," she replied. "I can't wait to see you again, and I haven't even left." She closed her suitcase and pulled it off the bed so that she could climb up with him for a last-minute snuggle.

"You know," he said thoughtfully as he kissed the top of her head, "you are so well-renowned, perhaps I'll just stop shopping my resume and stay here, at home, waiting for you every day with pancakes and music. And kisses, of course."

"We'll have to see how things get spun this time around," she laughed. "But if that will work, and you won't get too bored just … being with me?"

"How could I ever get bored? We'll have dance parties every night, and we'll watch the stars when the skies are clear."

"And … once we go public, if you need something to do other than kisses and pancakes .. I was thinking we could launch a label together."

He sat upright and positively _beamed_ at her. "Oh, yes. That would be marvelous. The Capitol will never be so well-dressed."

"I left a few preliminary sketches .. if you want to see if we can mesh the styles as well as we've meshed everything else," she offered with a grin.

"I'm certain of it," he said. "You and I put our personalities into our work — certainly since we mesh so well on that stage, it will translate." He leaned over and gently kissed her temple. "I'll be so wrapped up in the pieces of your soul left on those pages, I might even forget to miss you," he teased.

"Well, I'm sure I'll miss you all the same," she said. "Though I hope the mood of things has lifted a bit otherwise."

"It's the holiday season. Surely you will find a little cheer," he said, though the optimism sounded a bit more forced than usual.

"I hope you're right. Let's hope he found some nice girl to wow the crowd with," Jubilee teased before she kissed Noh's nose. "Put these silly rumors to bed already."

"If that's the case, we may go public before the Quarter Quell," he teased. He watched her for a moment before he kissed the top of her head again and let out a sigh. "Besides, it would be cheerful news to offset the shock of your newest design projects after the tour."

"You know I don't try to think ahead that far," Jubilee said with a little smile. "I don't know if I'll be working with the boy or the girl next time."

"No, no," Noh said, trying to find the words he was looking for. "You'll have design projects for Logan. He'll be returning often to the Capitol after the tour." He took in a breath. "Honestly, Jubilee, no one thought to tell you these things because it is your _first year_. Most of us learned from watching others."

She frowned at that. "Okay... I don't understand. I thought they were only here twice a year. I've never seen one of them here any other time."

"It's not well-broadcasted. These are not… public appearances." Noh took in a breath and held it. "You've seen the rabid fans and the power generated by these victors. If, for example, a politician were to… purchase a night with a famous victor on his or her arm, he could get into more doors that way. Or haven't you heard the rumors of victors coming here with strings of lovers in their wake? The rumors are false, but the evidence…" Noh shook his head and let out the rest of his breath.

"They can't _do_ that," Jubilee breathed out. "He'll never go along with anything like that."

"Jubilee," Noh said patiently. "Do you know what happened to the last victor who refused the orders of the Capitol?"

She just shook her head as she watched him wide eyed.

"It was Drax — and he lost his entire family." Noh leaned forward so he was whispering it in her ear. "The official story says otherwise, but those of us who have worked within the system… know the truth."

Jubilee took just a moment to stare at him before she latched onto him and squeezed him hard. "This sucks. Do they … when do they find out?"

"It's usually on the tour, as I understand it. I remember several victors were present to help James Rhodes when he won, and Bobbi Morse broke the tap off of a sink in the women's bathroom in a thunderous rage." He held her tightly to him. "I'm sorry. I had hoped you wouldn't have to deal with it, honestly. Those of us who work in the outer districts don't usually get victors at _all_ , let alone in our first year."

"Not one of those alliance members would have taken well to this," Jubilee said quietly.

"No," Noh had to agree just as softly. He took a breath and murmured in his lowest whisper, "I sometimes wonder if there is _any_ part of the Games that could be considered a desirable outcome once we send those children off to fight. But then — I do my job."

"I can totally see why you want out," she said softly. "And thank you for telling me," she said before she leaned forward and kissed him for a good, long stretch. "I think I might have punched Fury if I found out on the spot."

"Yes, well, I can tell you from experience that is no way to handle these matters," he said.

"Kick him in the business it is then," she said with a nod.

He couldn't help but laugh even as he said, "Please, Jubilee — only one of us should be on probation per year."

"Yes, but if I got on probation, you'd have to defacto help me design for my friend."

"Then I disavow all knowledge of your plan to cripple the director of the Games so I can be considered the responsible friend to help you."

"Not cripple," she said, sounding scandalized. "Neuter."

"Ah, I overestimated how hard and far-reaching you'd be hitting," he said with a little smirk.

"I don't know about that," she countered. "I mean, he thinks with those bits."

"Then he will indeed be crippled, since he'll lose his cognitive functions in the process," Noh pointed out, sounding a little triumphant as he chuckling quietly.

She grinned wider and readjusted herself to wrap her arms around his neck. "Okay, jailbird. I guess I'm just about out of time. Try not to get into more trouble before I get back. Both of us on probation in two different places would be torture."

"Agreed," he said fervently before he crossed his heart. "I promise to be on my best behavior so you can be the one to lose her temper this time," he added with a teasing smile before he snuck a quick kiss. "Be safe, Jubilee. And take care of your friend."

* * *

 _December 30_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Luke wasn't surprised when he found Cassie staring forlornly at the posted mission schedule. She'd done the same thing last year, too, and no matter how many times she promised that she was _just fine, thank_ s, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that she was jealous of the others who were allowed to go out.

The truth had always been that Cassie was the youngest — though now, with Ororo, that wasn't entirely true. And for as willing as the Capitol was to put kids as young as twelve in the Games, it seemed SHIELD wasn't as willing to have child fighters _quite_ that small for their revolution.

She jumped slightly when Luke rested a hand on her shoulder, then melted into a smile when she saw who it was. "Oh, hey," she said quietly.

"Hey yourself," he said with a little smile. He left his hand on her shoulder and glanced toward the posted list. "So… are you trying to put your name on there with sheer willpower?" he teased.

She giggled and shook her head at the suggestions. "No," she said. "I was just… trying to… I don't really know," she admitted at last.

He tucked her in underneath his arm in what was basically half a hug. "You'll get out there soon enough," he promised. "Coulson's already sent you out once. I'm sure that was just testing the waters."

"So they've been tested!" She threw up her hands. "I didn't even get in that much trouble."

"You got caught, Cas," he pointed out.

"Wade got me out again," she argued.

He had to chuckle at that and nod. "Yeah, he did," he admitted. "Still, you should probably spend a _little_ more time with Carol and Rhodey before you go out half-cocked, huh?"

"I'm gonna talk to Coulson and get on that schedule," she insisted, her chin out as she totally blew past his reasonable suggestion.

He watched her for a moment, taking in the determined fire and the way she was standing, before he just had to shake his head. "You do that, at least make sure me or that crazy kid you're so fond of goes with you," he said. "Only don't tell him I said so."

"He's not crazy."

"He is," Luke said. "You're just … the most patient person I've ever met."

Cassie grinned up at him and wrapped one arm around his middle to return the half-hug. "You're too nice, you know that?"

"Don't spread it around."

She giggled. "I won't," she promised, crossing an 'x' over her heart before she squeezed him one more time for good measure and then ducked out from underneath him, her mood a little lighter.

"You'd better be headed to train with Carol," he warned half-heartedly. "Not try and talk that lunatic into getting you out in the field somehow."

"And what if I was?" Cassie asked, turning on her heel to stick her tongue out at him.

He chuckled at her. "You're trouble, Cas."

"And you know it," she said, all but bouncing away with a significant lift to her step.

* * *

 _December 31_

 _Tahiti Rec Room_

* * *

While it was New Year's Eve, there was also one more thing to celebrate come the end of the year — and that was Kate's sixteenth birthday.

Unfortunately, it was also the day before the victory tour started, and since SHIELD wanted to take advantage of the massive distraction that was the tour, it meant a day of training, briefing, and just generally getting set for causing a whole lot of trouble.

So it was a good thing that, before any of that started, before Kate had even changed out of her pajamas, she had a little visitor crawl out from under the bed through the vents. Kurt had finally memorized the path without needing Kate or the map, and he looked pretty darn proud of himself when he showed up for an early morning birthday kiss — to be the first one to wish her happy birthday.

"Good morning," he called out to her from underneath her bed, pressing up on the springs a bit to wake her as well as she flailed for a moment, disoriented — and then realized what was happening and stuck her head under her bed with a wide grin.

"G'morning," she said brightly, despite the fact that she was still clearly half asleep.

While she was still upside down, he made it a point to kiss her quickly, and she was pink from both the blood rushing to her head and the early-morning kiss by the time they broke apart.

"Happy birthday, _liebling_ ," he said as he watched her climb down to lie on her stomach under the bed with him, and she grinned at him.

"That's a new word," she said. "What's it mean — hawkeye or archer or something?"

He turned a shade pinker. "It… just means you're special," he said quietly, which was not at all what he'd meant to say, but he found that telling her it was a term for loved ones was suddenly just… beyond him.

"Well, this is true," she said, biting her lip with a small smile. "That's a new shade, Kurt. You're gonna have to tell me what I did so I can do it again."

He reached up to his ears absently and then just sort of tried to smile at her, and she laughed.

"Okay, I'll stop. You're going to strain something," she told him, giggling as she scooted over so she could be closer to him and kiss his cheek. "And since you're getting in some extra time with Duquesne for sword training, you shouldn't strain things. Clint says he's a tough instructor."

"He knows all sorts of different forms," Kurt said diplomatically.

"Yeah, and he's a jerk," Kate said. "And I am protective of my Elf."

He had to grin at that as he leaned over and kissed her a bit longer.

They were both in exceptionally good moods for the rest of the day after that, despite the rigorous schedule — and despite the fact that all their favorite in-charge people were gone for the end of the year.

Bobbi, Rhodey, Charles — they were all gone to the tour to make a good showing in their home districts. And even Coulson was gone, so their briefings weren't nearly so … well, if briefings could be fun at _all_ , Coulson made them that way, making sure everyone had a good grasp on what was happening and that they were all comfortable. This new SHIELD person, Maria Hill, was something else — direct, to the point, no-questions-allowed, and clearly just trying to make sure they had all their prep work done so she could send them out and then get back to what she was usually up to in the Capitol.

And there was a _lot_ to prep for. The tour was a good couple weeks long, so the schedule had them out on new missions just as soon as they were back from the first — and of course, there was no mistaking the careful choices as to who was assigned where. No one in Team Awesome was allowed near their home districts — and none of the those kids were allowed on a job that would take them anywhere near where Logan would be during the days that coincided with his appearance in said districts. It was unavoidable that they'd be in the same district, but as for placement ... there was no switching assignments.

For the most part, it was a lot of sneaking around, placing cameras and monitoring systems in the houses of victors whose loyalties Fury and Hill weren't sure of — and the mayors' houses and Sentinel stations in each district. There was, according to the data they received, already plenty of surveillance in place, but by changing it up, they could avoid exactly the kind of thing the kids had been doing to sneak kisses — taking advantage of camera dead spots and the like.

And in the latter half of the tour, there were a few slightly more dangerous missions — ones in the Capitol itself. There was a push coming on — that much was clear to see — but Fury was playing it safe and careful, keeping his enemies under close surveillance. The kids were just the delivery boys and girls for said surveillance, really.

It was a pretty grueling pace, honestly — just enough time to catch a breath between missions before rushing off again, so theoretically, they were all supposed to be going to sleep early to rest up for the beginning of the crazy push the next day.

But it was New Year's Eve, so that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon.

The whole group of them gathered in the rec room the way they'd done on Christmas Day and just started trading traditions on what it was they did to celebrate the new year in their home districts. Even the few who were from the same district found differences — like Kate and Cassie, who grew up on opposite sides of Twelve. For Cassie, the new year meant everyone went out when the night started to come on to try and spot the first stars of the evening — and for Kate, the new year meant people she didn't know coming to her house for a party.

"My mom and I just sit out on the back porch and talk about what we want to accomplish in the next year," Steve said when it was his turn to share. He shrugged lightly, though his tone changed as he added, "This'll be her first year without me."

"That's not a bad tradition," Peter said with a nod and a grin that was clearly meant to try and lighten the mood a bit. He leaned back in a dramatic portrayal of being deep in thought before he said, "This year — I'm going to be seventeen. And I'm going to overthrow a government. No sense waiting until next year, right?"

"No sense at all," Steve agreed with a smirk. "Good thing there's no age limit on doing that kind of thing."

"Ooh, yeah. I have the exact same goals as Pete," Kate said, nodding. "Only I plan on overthrowing a government _before_ age seventeen."

"And those are your only goals for next year?" Kurt asked with a bit of troublemaking sparkle in his eyes.

"Well, the only goals I'm saying with the cameras on," Kate amended with a little smirk and a significant glance Peter's way.

Peter just grinned. "Hey, I'm waiting for the midnight moment. You can be patient for that long, right?"

"That's such a long time to wait," Kate said with a little giggle.

"You two are ridiculous," Clint said, shaking his head.

"Not even sorry," Kate replied without missing a beat. "You're just jealous yours is gone."

"Yes. Yes I am," Clint said, nodding seriously, though he was smirking now.

While the Hawks were trading jabs back and forth, Cassie grinned and leaned forward to tap Wade on the shoulder. "Okay, so if those two are Kart, and there was Clintasha before - do Clint and his new girl have a name yet? Like… Cobbi?" She winced at that. "Oooh, that was horrible. Don't use that."

"Hawkingbird, for sure," Wade replied quietly. "No other way to do it. And since their romance is on the hush-hush, we can use their code names."

"I think everyone's romance is on the hush-hush," Cassie pointed out.

"Yeah, but those two seem to be pulling it off. That — or they're given a little more leeway because she's a victor."

"A victor _and_ a trainer," Cassie agreed with a little nod.

"Special privileges."

"How do you think Carol and Rhodey have been getting away with it for so long?" Cassie asked with a twinkle in her eye. "She was the first one up, you know, and that ... took all of a day to get rolling, really." She tapped the side of her nose as she added in a whisper, "I know things, Wade."

"Clearly," he said with an impressed-looking smirk. "You know many things, Cassie Lang."

"Well, when you're on the geek squad, snooping's just about the only thing you're good for besides the tinkering stuff," Cassie pointed out. "And I'm still not at tinkering-level. Just a tinkerer's apprentice." She grinned at him, clearly proud of her own joke and giggling slightly.

"Sneaky, smart, _and_ pretty. Looks like I hit the trifecta," Wade said with a grin.

"Well — I could say the same stuff about you," she said with a definite blush.

He regarded her with a shocked look before he broke into an obvious theatrical gasp. "Cassie Lang, do you think I'm pretty?"

She just blushed a little deeper. "Yeah. Cute."

"I knew you were a keeper," he whispered into her hair for just a moment before they had to separate rather than break the rules much further.

The countdown crept up on them quickly, though this time, it was dual purpose. When Peter hit zero, the kids had exactly one second until midnight — and midnight kisses, and everyone was perfectly prepared, plan in place and … grinning madly.

And as excited as they were to get their midnight kisses, they were just as destroyed when, mid-kiss, a disturbingly familiar voice broke through the silence in the room.

"I'm sure I'll be wildly entertained by how you managed to loop my feed," Essex said at a low growl. "But not _nearly_ so entertained by the punishments that you _all_ will be acting out on your return from your missions." He glared at each and every one of them in turn before hissing out orders for them all to get to bed.

It was _not_ the way they'd wanted their new year to start, and every one of them looked upset as they half scattered — though Kate and Kurt and Tony and Pepper in particular looked crushed. And even though Wade had only kissed Cassie on the cheek, they were both looking disappointed too.

"See what happens when you can't keep it to yourself?" Steve tried to tease on his way down the hall with Kurt and Tony, though that just got Clint to stop ahead of them, turn, and smack him.

"Shut up, Steve."

"I'm just saying," Steve said, rubbing the back of his head where Clint had hit him. "There's a time and a place — and staging for war is neither."

"Shut _up,_ Steve," Clint said again, sticking his finger in Steve's face. "I can't tune you out anymore, so I'm _not_ gonna listen to you — even if that means I have to shut you up myself."

"How am I wrong?"

Clint crossed his arms over his chest, blocking Steve's path. "You know that girl you been drawing when you ain't drawing 'Ro?" he said with a casual shrug that didn't match the anger in his gaze, his voice slipping into a deeper accent that he'd gotten from years in Two's worst neighborhoods the madder he got. "If she were here, how much you wanna bet you'd be swapping spit just as much as the others? Don't hate because she's on the other side." He shook his head. "Green ain't your color, Cap."

Steve paused for a moment and let out a little sigh before he held up both hands. "I just don't want them getting into trouble, that's all. No hatefulness or jealousy involved. Really."

Clint looked him over for a good, long time and gave him a little nod. "I know, but you come across as real self-righteous sometimes, Cap. Someone's gotta call you on your crap."

"So I've been told," Steve said with a dry look.

"Just doing my job. You need the reminder sometimes." With that, Clint spun on his heel and stopped blocking the hall so the other three boys could continue down — with Tony smirking the whole time at the display and in a slightly better mood after watching Steve get chewed out by the other resident tall blonde from their year.

On the other side of the residential halls, the girls were practically sulking — but much quieter about it. "How much trouble are we in?" Cassie asked Kate at a whisper as they headed down the girls' hall.

"Can't be too much," Kate said with a reassuring smile. "I mean — what're they going to do? We're already stuck here. We don't have anything of our own. What, no ice cream for a month?" Her tone was careless, but it was clear she was still upset at the interruption and threat of punishment.

"At least he can't do much to you guys until you get back," Cassie said quietly, miserably. "Pepper, Tony, Ororo, and I …"

Kate glanced at the younger girl and stopped in her tracks to turn and pull Cassie into a hug and whisper, "It always helps me to get my knees involved when creeps get annoying."

Cassie gave her a little smile. "Pretty sure that would mean more trouble. But I'll keep it in mind."

"Well, if he's gonna be mean, you might as well earn it," Kate teased. "But seeing as you weren't full lip lock, I think you might get off a little easier."

"We'll see," Cassie said.

Kate swept up the younger girl into a more crushing hug. "Hey, happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Kate," Cassie said with a smirk before they parted company for the night. "Don't get caught tomorrow."

"By who — Essex or the other bad guys?" she teased. "They both sound about equal right now."

Cassie just smirked at her and shook her head, and the girls slipped into their rooms, the doors bolting shut behind them.

Not a one of the Tahiti kids slept as soundly as they wanted to that night, half in apprehension of just what exactly a vindictive Essex would do — and half disappointed that the new year had started out with a trip and a stumble like that.


	24. And So It Begins

**Notes: And with this chapter we kick off Logan's victory tour officially! Those of you that have read "In the End You Always Kneel" in its entirety will recognize bits and pieces from Logan's point of view from the tour bits in the end of that particular fic, but we've tweaked it and edited it a bit… and expanded on it, showing the points of view of the others involved, including not only Tahiti but SHIELD itself. After all, there are things to set in motion…**

* * *

 **Chapter 24: "And So It Begins"**

* * *

 _January 1_

 _District Seven_

* * *

Heather wasn't planning on interrupting Logan, seeing as the victory tour was getting started and he clearly had a full schedule because of it — but she felt like she should check on the Sentinel stationed near Logan's house to see how things were going. Just to be sure things were okay.

But she was surprised to find that she was not the only visitor the young man had that morning, as an entire team of Capitol stylist preppers were out there as well, huddled in the snow in coats that looked like they were made for fashion and not substance — instead of going in the house itself.

"You don't want to go in there," one of the shivering Capitolites said. "It's … a battle. It always is with those two."

Heather raised an eyebrow, looking between the Capitolites and the Sentinel for a moment before she heard the raised voices that were clear even from outside — and made right for the front door, pulling it open without ceremony or introduction.

"Listen! You don't want to hurt me, and I don't want to hurt you — so just … shut up and let me do my _job,_ you stubborn pain in the butt!" Jubilee half-shouted.

"Get. Off," was Logan's growled out response, though all Heather could see was the top of a dark-haired Jubilee over the top of the couch.

"I can't! You're too scruffy for me to ignore!" she argued. "The beard makes you look too _old._ "

When Heather stepped around the corner, she wasn't sure if she should laugh or not, seeing as the tiny little stylist was all but perched on his chest. He had each of her wrists in his hands — one of which was holding a straight razor — and she was hissing to him that he was going to be clean shaven for _once in his life._

"Don't argue with the woman with a blade, Logan," Heather said, leaning against the doorframe and chuckling to herself.

"Mind your own damn business, Heather," Logan half barked her way, though it was clear he wasn't fighting Jubilee very hard. "She does this so I have no choice other than let her get hurt for her own stupid."

"Then clearly, she knows what she's doing," Heather said, still chuckling.

Jubilee grinned at her with a huge smile. "Thank you," she said before she turned to Logan. "Okay. I'm going to bet she'd _help._ So just … give it up this one time. Please."

"Get off me and I'll do it myself," he growled back, which seemed good enough for Jubilee as she cheerfully gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and pinched his arm hard before she hopped up and handed him the razor. The two of them glared at each other before Jubilee gave him a hopeful look, and he shook his head with a sigh. "I'm going."

When he walked off, Jubilee gave Heather a clear up and down before she extended her hand to her. "Jubilation Lee, Tamer of Wolverines," she said. "And you are …"

"Heather Hudson," she said with a warm smile.

"How do you know my stabby, snarly friend?" Jubilee asked, biting her lip.

"He and my husband are … well, Mac's arrested him often enough," Heather said with a little smirk.

"Darn," Jubilee replied, clearly deflated. "Any chance he's got a girlfriend stashed in here somewhere? I asked him after I tackled him — and he just glared at me like it was an insult to even _ask_."

Heather looked surprised at Jubilee's clear disappointment that she was not, in fact, Logan's girlfriend. "I thought you two…."

Jubilee just waved her hand. "They say all kinds of things, but we're just _friends._ "

This time, it was Heather's turn to look disappointed. "That's really too bad," she said. "He needs someone."

"Hard to believe there aren't any local girls interested," Jubilee said as she crossed her arms and blew her bangs out of her face. "Not like there's anything _wrong_ with him."

"Besides the fact that they'd have to pin him down for more than five minutes at a time to keep him from running off on his own, you mean," Heather said with a longsuffering sigh.

Jubilee grinned and shrugged. "That's half the fun if you don't want to just keep up with him!"

Heather laughed. "Are you sure you're not dating him? I won't tell anyone if it's a secret."

"Well, for one thing, it would require that I see him more than once in six months," Jubilee pointed out. "But no. I have a sweetheart in the Capitol." She took a step forward and dropped her voice low. "But that _is_ a secret."

Heather broke into an even wider smile. "Oh, why?" she asked, genuinely interested.

"Well," Jubilee said, stepping closer still so she could whisper. "For one thing, it doesn't line up with their stories. For another, we're not supposed to date co-workers."

"That doesn't sound like any fun," Heather said, shaking her head and matching Jubilee's whisper-quiet tones. "Especially at your age — you _should_ be out dating and exploring yourself!"

"Oh, it's fine. I'm sure you'll hear about it soon enough," Jubilee said. She returned to a more normal speaking level as she waved her hand. "But now, I've got to get our friend looking his best."

Heather just shooed her forward with both hands. "Go to it. Heaven knows you need all the extra time. I just came in because I heard shouting." She paused for a moment and allowed herself a small smirk. "Do you want me to send in that team of yours? Because otherwise I'm going to have to take them home with me so they don't freeze to death."

"You can send them in," Jubilee answered as she gathered up her things. "I know he won't hurt _me_ — but they kind of ticked him off last time, and for some reason they're scared of him."

"That would explain why they're hiding," Heather said with a nod as she headed out of the kitchen. "It was nice to meet you, Jubilee."

"Nice to meet you too!" she called back as she ran up the stairs after Logan, already promising that she'd be nice if he was, to Heather's supreme amusement.

* * *

When Jubilee was done with him, it was just a matter of getting to the send off. Jubilee had at least done him the favor of making sure that he wasn't dressed in a suit and tie. Instead, she'd designed an entirely more fitted version of his usual attire that showed off his physique a bit more than off-the-rack jeans and flannels.

Creed was already there and waiting for them, though he looked irritated when he saw the little group.

"Don't be hateful that you can't measure up," Jubilee said Creed's way half under her breath as they walked by, a little glare on her face just for him.

Creed just gave her a dirty look, apparently speechless at the sassy little stylist's response to him, but already Moira was urging them onward for the big sendoff on the train, and in public, with all the cameras on them, they had been warned _heavily_ against doing or saying anything.

* * *

This was the part of the tour that Coulson always dreaded, though at least this year he had even more help than usual with Skye slogging through the droves of kids' names with him.

Every year it was the same — under the cover of the tour, they would go out and see the final few choices for each district themselves to gauge just how good Cerebro's choices had been. There was only so much algorithms and personality assessments could do without seeing the kids in person, and seeing as this next year would be a big 25-year bash, SHIELD's focus, at least as far as Thanos was concerned, was on getting the tribute pool as good as it could get.

Thankfully, Coulson's team didn't need to do much looking into things as far as future tributes went in Seven. There were a few front runners for the boys, but Fury had already cut through the options and chosen the girl that would be on the block for the district, and to be honest, Coulson was well on board with the idea.

So his main goal for that day was just to keep an eye on the newest victor and make sure nothing horrible happened — and gauge whether or not the two most volatile victors he'd seen in some time were going to kill each other publicly. Skye would handle the rest — he was never so glad to have hired her… and feeling a little smug about it, since Hill had been against the idea and now Hill was the one telling him to rely on his 'profiler' more so he could focus on Logan in case he or Creed started anything.

Thankfully, it looked like they were actually, for the most part, behaving. Or tolerating each other and actively making an effort to keep apart.

He was just watching the mayor give the usual sendoff and pontificating speech when Skye came sliding up to him and wrinkled her nose as she looked toward the crowd. "Okay, so I know we have options? But do we really want two big blonde creeps from the same district? Cuz that Kyle kid is kinda freaking me out just observing him for thirty minutes."

"He's actively trying to be more like Victor Creed," Coulson said without turning her way. "Poor life choice, honestly, but we'll just have to see how our other options look up close. Any thoughts on the other two?"

"I mean, I definitely have a favorite to _look_ at," Skye said with a little smirk. "The big guy from the tribe — James Proudstar — eighteen this month and _smoking_."

Coulson couldn't help but smirk at that. "I think we might stir up the tribe too much picking another from their ranks so close to Silver Fox, and it'd have the cutting crew up in arms too, since … he's in that group too."

Skye gave him a little look for a moment and then shrugged. "Okay, but that leaves us with the tall skinny kid who, I swear to you Coulson, he looks like you could turn him sideways and he'd be hidden."

"Fury's pick," Coulson said. "No idea why though. I'll be honest, I'm just looking for a reason to pitch either of the others."

"Well, if you think there's a problem with James, I guess we could go with Creepy Kyle, but that'd be two creeps at once if this girl Fury picked is anything like the rest of the family."

"You're assuming that Creed won't actually _want_ her to win," Coulson said with a smirk. "First time for everything — and I'll bet he'd never let Logan near her."

"Well, that'll be interesting." Skye seemed to pause to consider it for a while. "But that would leave Logan with Kyle, and that would be… yeah, that's a bad visual."

"Bad visual is an understatement," Coulson agreed. "But to have him and Proudstar together—" Coulson shook his head and turned to face her. "I don't doubt for a second they'd be speaking in the tribe's language, and that doesn't show well on television."

Skye let out her breath as she considered it, running a hand through her hair before she offered, "He might get along with this kid from the orphanage. I mean. Skinny kid who lets the little girls use him like a stepladder?"

"Something the two of them have in common," Coulson said.

"But…" Skye let her whole body slump as she got to the crux of what she _really_ wanted to tell him. "See. This … is really different from last year when I didn't know we were profiling people to _die_. Even if I know about 'the program' now. It's just... "

"It's got to look random," Coulson said. "At least to someone outside of the circle. Cerebro can only do so much, and we can't pick the top picks every year or it will be _obvious_ to even the royals what we're up to."

"Yeah, you say that, but all I'm hearing is 'pick the creeps and keep the innocents safe'."

"That would be nice," he agreed with a smirk. "Or just go with an actual lottery."

"Yeah, that would also be nice. But then you know Seven would win every year. I mean… _look_ at them," Skye said in a slightly breathless voice as she gestured at the lumberjacks in particular.

"Are you helping me or just working on picking out your next date?" Coulson teased.

"I can do both!" she shot back with her hands on her hips and a huge grin.

"Not all of them are … huge. Just the ones that work in the woods it seems."

"Yeah, but still." Skye gave one last glance to the lumberjacks before she let out a sigh. "Okay, well, we're still down to not wanting to tick off the tribe, not wanting creepy Kyle… so…"

"You're assuming Kyle would have an actual shot," Coulson pointed out. "His psychological profile suggests an early round mental break."

"I really don't want to know what a breakdown looks like when you're trying to be like Creed," Skye muttered under her breath.

"Write up your notes on the three. We don't have to hand in the report on our suggestions until we get there."

"That's a good idea. Get some distance… I'll write it up on the way to Twelve," she promised.

* * *

"Alright," Jan said in a bubbly, excited sort of tone. "That little cluster of log houses down there is the victor's village. Have a ball, Cap. _I_ am going to go drop in on the mayor's." She drew back her shoulders a bit, clearly excited to be out in the field and not cramped up in Hank's lab for as long as she had been so far — and especially excited to be back in her home district.

"Meet you at the rendezvous," Steve agreed as the two of them parted ways, unable to quite stow the grin at her obvious enthusiasm.

"Don't get caught!" she said cheerfully over her shoulder before she just seemed to disappear into the district.

This push to get all new surveillance set up was actually fairly straightforward and even — dare she say it — _easy_ when it came to getting inside. Jan had always been good with infiltration. Not the sneaky part of it, really, but the getting inside bit. And since everyone was down at the main plaza, it didn't matter that she let out a little "aha!" of pleasure when she found she _still had it_ and was able to get the window open on the first try, jimmying the lock perfectly.

"I need to get out in the field more often," she mused to herself as she quickly went around the mayor's residence putting the cameras in place — and then moved on to a few other official sites while the big sendoff party was still going on. It was _so_ much easier with everyone distracted.

Steve, meanwhile, had the task of setting up surveillance on all of the victors' houses. He figured he would start with the least volatile victor, and to his relief, Groot's little pet raccoon was with him and not at home. He really didn't want to deal with _that_ while he was breaking into a house.

After that it was on to Creed's place, which was surprisingly… tidy. All sorts of expensive things on display. It was a little unsettling, if he was being honest with himself, and Steve was quick to get the job done and leave, because the neat sprawling log cabin didn't really mesh with _Victor Creed_.

But when Steve reached Logan's house, he was surprised to find it wasn't empty. There was a pretty woman inside, perfectly at home, even though everyone was supposed to be at the sendoff. She seemed to be putting everything in order and making sure the house was clean, and luckily, Steve had arrived at the end of her cleaning run. She was just putting away the last of the dishes when he peeked in, but a few moments later, she swept out of the house and headed back down the road, leaving Steve slightly bewildered but grinning all the same.

 _Good for him_ , he thought to himself as he let himself in through the window and started to set the surveillance for the last of the houses he was assigned to.

He had just left through the back door when Jan seemed to appear out of nowhere, grinning through her mask as she took his arm. "C'mon, Cap. You're moving too slow, and _I'm_ supposed to be the old lady of the group," she teased him as she led him back toward where the jet was.

"I got held up," he said with an easy shrug. "Had to wait for the last house to empty."

"No one's supposed to be here right now," she said with a clear tone of disbelief.

"Didn't seem to stop the pretty redhead that just left," Steve replied with a little smirk.

"Oooh, really?" Jan giggled delightedly. "I should've taken the houses then!"

"You're a hopeless romantic, Wasp," he teased.

"It's my _job_ to be the hopeless romantic," she said with mock importance. "I am the _reason_ for the romance rules back home."

"Why am I not surprised?" Steve laughed as they reached their jet. "I mean — outside of the fact that it's _Hank_."

"Well, _I_ told him if it was just going to be the two of us for forever down there in Tahiti all _alone_ , he might as well just man up and marry me already," Jan teased. "Well… more or less. That's my version of the story anyway, and Hank has learned not to argue it."

"Smart man," Steve said, shaking his head at her.

"He is," Jan said happily as she climbed into the pilot's seat in the cockpit. "Strap in, Cap — I'm a fast flier."

* * *

 _January 2_

 _District Twelve_

* * *

"Okay, but here's the thing, Coulson," Skye said as she sidled up to Coulson as they exited the train. " _No one lives here_. I mean. Seriously. No one. It is tiny. The _people_ here are all tiny and malnourished and — we have very very limited options."

"Your viewpoint might be a bit skewed after watching the lumberjacks," he pointed out.

"Okay, you have a point there." Skye shrugged up her shoulders for a moment before she gestured at the gathering crowd. "But for real, AC. There is not a very big pool to draw from."

"No, there's really not," he agreed, nodding his very tired agreement. After all, he'd thought the exact same thing a hundred times over himself. "I hate having to pull anyone from this district, to be honest."

She had to nod her agreement. "I'm going to head down to that little falling apart shack from the family interviews," she said. "And if I die, it's because I fell through the floor into the pits of the earth. Don't come looking for me."

"We'll deny we knew where you came from," Coulson teased with a ghost of a smirk.

"And I'm gonna look around the rest of this place and see if I can find _anyone_ else, because seriously, those kids — hitting them a third time is mean, Coulson. It just is."

"Don't have to convince me," Coulson said. "Just the big guy."

Skye rolled her eyes at that but bit back her usual argument — because they'd already had it about nine times over. Fury needed secret fighters for his little undead army, so they had to find good kids like this and _kill them._ Which was stupid. There were better ways to recruit people.

But she hadn't been able to win that argument yet. So… she'd just focus on doing her job and try to find new ways to argue in the meantime.

With that, Skye headed off, feeling a little out of place in the dingy shacks and keeping her eyes peeled for _anyone_ outside of the little group of kids she was going to go spy on.

There weren't many options for girls, really. The bushy-haired kid with an attitude problem was about it. But at least the rest of them ... at least only one of them could get picked this year. (Though Skye was getting concerned about the next year at this rate.)

Who was she supposed to pick? The dark-haired kid with a heart of gold? The stressed-out kid trying to be a leader and practically falling apart because he couldn't keep them safe? The tech genius who was _wasted_ in a place like this? Or the kid with a criminal record who was constantly in trouble with the law for things like stealing food for his brother?

They were all _good kids_. She didn't want to pick _any_ of them. In fact, if she had her way, these kids would have SHIELD backing and support for their little efforts to actually _improve_ the dingiest district in all of Marvel.

But no, instead, she was picking two to be _murdered._

Skye hated this job. A lot.

* * *

Logan barely heard what Moira was trying to tell him as Jubilee fussed over him and they prepared to step out in front of the crowd in Twelve.

"It's traditional tae gie a brief eulogy fur th' fallen tributes," she had said when Logan cut across her.

"I can't do that."

"Well you hav tae," Moira insisted. "It does'nae hav tae be much. Jist a few words." She fixed him with a look as he went a shade more pale. His mouth felt dry.

What the hell could he possibly say about Kate that wouldn't sound false to the people that knew her and loved her best? He couldn't think of a thing, and 'sorry' didn't seem to even begin to cover it.

Moira and Jubilee ushered him through a maze of corridors in the town hall as the mayor began his speech on the platform outside. Logan's heart was racing as they announced their arrival. They stepped out into the light, and Logan was struck by how small the district's population was. How raggedy they were. He couldn't help but notice the two platforms raised up in the center of the crowd. One was empty, but the other ... he wasn't going to look at the platforms.

He kept his gaze downward and tried to avoid looking at anything but the stage and attempted to block out everything. But very suddenly, Logan was aware of Moira saying something that sounded suspiciously like the end of an introduction, and then his name.

It was quiet. Quiet enough to hear the guy three rows in from the back cough, and he realized now that they were waiting for him to say something. He still had no flamin' clue what to do about it, though. Jubilee gave him a nudge, and he took a step forward.

He'd just gotten to the microphone and was looking at his boots when someone in the front row cleared their throat, and his gaze automatically found the frizzy-haired girl just in front of him.

She had her arms crossed over her chest and her chin tipped up defiantly when Logan met her gaze. There was a small knot of boys around her, all of whom seemed to be in solidarity with her, though in varying stages of grief. She seemed to be taking him in — her expression skeptical, though after a moment, her shoulders relaxed the slightest and she gave him a little nod as if she had decided she'd allow him to join them in their loss.

At the evidence that Logan simply wasn't going to speak, the mayor started in again in an overly cheerful tone as he tried to redirect their attention to the generic tribute they had created for Kate and Loki.

A familiar sob echoed over the crowd and drew Logan's attention to the platform raised above the crowd. There were only three people on the platform; one of the two men who stood there had Kate's dark hair and brilliant eyes – but he had none of her smile as he posed on the platform with a frown. He was better-dressed than just about everyone in the district, except perhaps the mayor, and Logan gathered from the looks he was getting from the nearby crowd members that he simply wasn't one of the more well-liked in Twelve. From his annoyed expression, it wasn't hard to see why.

But it wasn't the men standing there that had his attention. He was focused on the young woman between the two men that looked as if she could have been Kate, if not a few years older.

"Och, th' poor lass," Moira said with a tut under her breath. "She was blonde in th' family interviews, she must ha' dyed 'er hair as a nod tae 'er sister."

Now Logan could see it — the coloring wasn't quite right for the jet black long locks that were pulled back into a pink headband that looked nearly identical to the purple one that Kate had worn when he knew her.

This young woman — Kate's sister — was an absolute mess. Sobbing and shaking as her husband or fiancé or whatever held her up. She had a handkerchief clutched to her chest as the tears streamed down her face, and Logan couldn't take his eyes off of her, though in his mind, he was watching Kate.

Kate — bloodied and screaming for him as tears rolled down her face. Kate — pushing back against a shield and a boy far too big for her to fight back against.

He could see her arms trembling to push Steve away … the desperation in her features. And the inevitable as she gasped, her chest trying to heave before she let loose that soul-rending scream, begging for help that would never come.

And that was it. He didn't even try to say anything. Instead, he just took a measured step backward, his head tipped down, at a total loss for words — with absolutely no desire to try and amend that.

* * *

Wade and Luke had a bit of a hike to the district itself, because Twelve was small enough that putting the jet down _anywhere_ near the district itself would draw attention. So, the two of them had flown out near a lake, and from there, they were hiking to the district.

"How cool is this?" Wade asked as he looked down at his suit. "First time no mask has ever been a GOOD thing." He was chuckling to himself still at the assignments. It was entertaining to him in so many ways since the biggest joke here was that his official uniform for this particular mission was a SHIELD uniform. No mask. "How's it feel to be the ugly one, Power Man?"

Luke just shook his head at Wade, though he couldn't resist saying, "Well, I'm usually the one to take Cassie out in field training, so I'm used to it."

"Good," Wade said with an exaggerated sigh. "I was worried for a second there that you might not be able to handle it."

"Let's just focus on getting over the fence," Luke suggested as they hiked their way through the woods. "The stops in Twelve never last long anyway. Too little to see, too much travel to do."

"You got it, bossman," Wade said with a tight military salute.

Once they got around the fence, they split up, with Wade doing his best to get directly to town without running and Luke heading toward the nearly ghost-town-like Victor's Village.

When Wade got to the town, they were just starting up with the mayor's speech, and he allowed himself to take a peek at what was going on, pulling a face at Kate's sister as she went through the wailing widow routine just before he slipped into his first target.

No one questioned him or stopped him, simply excusing themselves if he ran into them or doing their level best to avoid eye contact with him. It seemed that much of Twelve was wary of SHIELD for one reason or another.

He finished up in the Sentinel's HQ to step out in time to see that their time was up. The crowd on the stage was already heading toward the trains, and the crowd was slowly moving to disperse.

He quick-stepped down the path, ready to break into a run if need be by the time he spotted Luke. "Our cover did a crap job of public speaking," Wade told him. "They're already on their way back."

"Thanks for the commentary," Luke said with a smirk. "You get everything?"

"Oh yeah," Wade promised. "No problems at all. How about you? Did you manage to run through all ONE of those houses back there?"

"Yeah, I think I managed it," Luke said, still smirking a bit as the two of them headed for the fence and Luke gave Wade a boost over to speed things along. They were halfway back to the jet when he very nearly got his head taken off by a trap set out in the woods, and he leapt out the way just in time.

"Did I miss the section on boobytraps?" Wade asked, a little wide-eyed as he rubbed his neck, glad that his head was still attached. "Because I usually remember things like _that._ "

"Yeah, there wasn't anything in the info about traps," Luke said, giving the branch that had nearly hit him a clear once over. "Wonder who set it."

"You know…. I seem to remember Cassie Lang talking about stuff like this," Wade said with his finger resting on his chin.

"Yeah, but I always figured they'd be closer to town," Luke said.

"If they were closer to town, they'd be dangerous to the stupid animals wandering around there," Wade said as if it was the simplest of explanations. "Duh."

"That's the point," Luke said, shaking his head a bit as they just pressed on — a little more carefully.

"Not if you're trying to keep from killing little kids," Wade argued. "This looks more for big dumb Sentinel-y animals."

"If that's the case, remind me to have Cassie set us up with more like it," Luke said with a little grin. "I'm all for Sentinel traps that make our life easier."

"I'm sure our sweet little Cassie Lang was not the perpetrator in this set up," Wade said in his best SHIELD agent voice. "What we've got here is someone with blatant disregard for authority. With my … in- _depth_ research, I'd have to guess that this most likely is the work of one … Tommy. Or possibly Miss America. If it had a boot attached to it. For _remote_ ass kicking possibilities."

"How … in-depth is your research anyway?" Luke asked with one raised eyebrow.

"In-depth enough," Wade answered in that still serious tone. "Enough to remember what she told me about her friends, that is. How well did you pay attention big brother Luke?"

"Enough to know they were all twelve and thirteen and under at the time, so this kind of trap…" He gestured at the branch behind them. "Not exactly their style. Guess it's changed."

"Well I hope they'd get better at traps over the years," Wade said. "If not, then they're waaay dumber than they sound in the stories."

"You listen to Kate's stories too?" Luke asked with a smirk. "Because she'd agree with you."

"It's hard to listen to Kate's stories when she's got her tongue down Kurt's throat," Wade deadpanned.

"So he's doing in-depth research too," Luke said, still with half an eye on Wade.

"Are you kidding? The bamf-master already knows all that."

Luke just shook his head at Wade. "I'm sure," he said. He pushed through some of the overgrowth before he added, "Look, just keep your tongue and your research to yourself, alright?"

"Didn't you _see_ us at new years?" Wade said with a frown. "I kissed her cheek."

"Yeah, keep it that way. She's fourteen and a little bit starved for people. Don't take advantage of that."

"That's … I would never, ever, _ever_ push her for anything. At all," Wade said, holding up both hands and sounding just as sincere as it was possible for him to sound. "Not my style."

"Good." Luke looked stern for a minute before his shoulders relaxed. "Jet's up ahead," he said, jerking his head to indicate the plane. "Let's get out of here before another tree tries to kill us."

* * *

Kate was not on one of the early teams, which meant she was still in the Tahiti wing putting up with Essex's new rules — which mostly consisted of early curfew and a new schedule that segregated mealtimes: boys at one time and girls at another.

But Pepper still had the tablet Tony had given her, which meant she and Tony were able to trade messages and other important things — like the streaming footage from the victory tour.

The four girls — Pepper, Kate, Carol, and Cassie — who were still in the Tahiti complex for the time being were gathered around Pepper's tablet to watch the broadcast, and both Kate and Cassie were ridiculously excited to see their friends from back home toward the front of the gathered crowd so that they could easily be spotted on the cameras. Though… the excitement quickly dissipated when they saw the devastated look on Billy's face … and the fact that Tommy wasn't grinning.

"I miss them," Cassie muttered to Kate, and Kate had to agree.

The broadcast panned to the family platforms — empty for Loki, since his family was in Four. But Kate's family was there — and Carol tipped her head to the side in surprise. "She looks just like you," Carol muttered, though Kate wasn't really listening.

Susan had _dyed_ her hair. She was a sobbing mess, worse even than when Kate had been reaped in the first place, and on seeing her sister in such a state, Kate already had one hand clamped tightly over her mouth to try and keep from following her big sister's example.

But then the broadcast shifted focus to Logan, and Kate just screwed her jaw as tightly shut as she could to keep from just losing it entirely when she saw the look on his face — the way he was steadfastly not looking at Susan or, well, anything.

Both Cassie and Kate glanced at each other when they saw their little group of friends clustered by the front of the stage to catch Logan's attention. Cassie had seen the broadcasts of the Games and knew the story they were peddling, and while Kate had seen the actual footage of everything that went down during those stupid Games, she also knew what her friends would have been told. There was no telling how the little group in Twelve would react if they thought Logan had been screwing Kate over.

But ... there was no rough reaction like they'd expected. No insults from America, Tommy didn't throw anything…

"They're smart enough to cut through the Capitol crap," Cassie muttered to Kate, who had to nod her agreement with a proud sort of smile.

The two Twelve girls were smirking at each other right up until the moment Susan let out a horrible sob, and the tenor of the entire broadcast changed when Logan looked up at the family platform.

At the look on Logan's face — just a look of sheer desolation — that was it for Kate. She stood up abruptly from the table and left her friends and her food behind to just… leave. She couldn't take that, couldn't watch it.

This wasn't fair to Logan. To _anyone_. And with all the effort they were putting in over the next two weeks, they had _better_ be getting set to overthrow a government, like, _now_ , because she was _done_ waiting.


	25. Still Waters Run Deep

**Notes: And our victory tour continues. Poor Logan hates this whole thing, and Skye and Coulson aren't big fans either. In fact, I don't think anybody's really all that happy… January is not a kind month to our kiddies, apparently.**

* * *

 **Chapter 25: "Still Waters Run Deep"**

* * *

 _January 3_

 _District Eleven_

* * *

Skye was supposed to be watching the people on the list for each district, but this kid in particular was going to be a hard case. His dad raised him on his own after his mom died _in the Games_ — teenage pregnancy, ostracized, the whole nine. He was tight with his dad, almost adorably so, even if his dad was gone all the time. The man worked hard — and he was on Fury's radar for how well he could get along with both Sentinels and the people in the district, which was all but impossible around those parts. And it was probably why he was close with the mayor _and_ close with Fury. Though how that was possible was beyond Skye.

But his dad wasn't the one she was supposed to be profiling. Instead, she was looking at the fourteen-year-old kid who was tall for his age and lanky — and always, _always_ grinning. While his dad was able to get along with everyone because he was unassuming, this one got along with everyone because he was just so darn _cheerful_.

Even Skye, who was clearly dressed in her SHIELD clothes and so was getting a wide berth from everyone else in the district, wasn't immune to his cheerful greeting as he waved her way on the way to the big gathering.

He was the last on her list to observe as she made her way back to the gathered group to find Coulson, shaking her head at the options in front of her.

The other boy on radar was almost the opposite of the cheerful little guy. Seventeen already, tall, muscular and sporting a white streak in the front of his hair that was too perfect not to be natural. He was part of a radical closet religion that was so close to an old world witchcraft that half of the district was scared of the kid. She would definitely be putting in her notes that if they wanted to up the scare factor, he was the best choice, even if he was actually nice when she'd observed him. (That was the problem. So many nice kids on this stupid list.) But it would certainly look good. And the Capitol would love the white streak.

For the girls, there were two front runners as well. A young woman named Lambeau who seemed to have a bit of a talent for all things electronic in spite of being all the way out here in the agricultural district. Reports had come in that she'd been keeping all of the machinery with electronics up and running with no wait time for Capitol mechanics to come out to fix them. She was bright, and cheerful, and it seemed like everyone liked her.

Skye had a feeling she was on Fury's list specifically to die so he could have her talents in the secret wings of SHIELD where the workshops and stuff were that Fitzsimmons were always going on about. And that didn't exactly sit well with Skye, since, well, _she_ had been recruited for similar talents, and she didn't think it would be a great recruitment pitch to get, you know. _Murdered_.

But on the other hand, she was smart, she was happy, and she'd be a darling in the Capitol. Not to mention the fact that she seemed to be self-confident enough to make it through the Games at least a little further than the others had.

The other girl — well. She was the picture perfect teacher's pet. Everything about her was polished and perfect. Even with dust clouds swirling at her feet, this girl seemed to be above all of the dirt and mess. She was quick, clearly on top of her job, and her sisters all looked every bit as perfect as she did. It was a bit unnerving in such a dirty and labor-intensive district to see the little group of perfectly groomed girls flitting amid the rest of the kids.

She was another one that was incredibly smart — though her skill set seemed to be more classical in that she was far above par in literature, math, and what little science the Capitol would allow. It was a little off-putting, how perfect she was — which might not actually be a bad thing. The Capitol loves a well-groomed and intelligent tribute, right? Show that the districts are well-cared for and some other crap?

Either way, one of these two brilliant kids was going to get used up by the Games, and Skye couldn't help but notice the way everyone in the district was shooting her looks as she passed. She knew it was because of the uniform, but there was still a part of her that felt like maybe they _knew_ she was here to choose which kids would die.

"How's it looking, Skye?" Coulson had to ask when the two of them met up again. She just looked too deep in thought for it to be nothing.

"We're draining off some of the smartest and best kids from where they're needed," she told him honestly.

"To go somewhere they're needed more," Coulson replied.

"I know, I get it, but it just — it's stupid to walk around knowing you're weighing out a person's life."

"We can't argue about this for the whole tour, Skye. I don't have a say in it outside of making recommendations for the best ones to choose."

"It's just different from doing the whole thing as algorithms and file markups is all," she grumbled.

"It's always worse when you put a living, breathing person to the name," Coulson agreed.

"Do the 'operatives' know about this? I mean… if I went down there, would they know I was part of the team that put them in the Games?"

"Absolutely not," he said shortly. "They may suspect, but no one has confirmed it."

"O-kay," she said, though from her tone it was clear she didn't think that was a good idea. "But when we're all said and done, I'm blaming you if I get swarmed by angry undead people who would be _totally justified_ in swarming me."

* * *

Logan didn't really pay much attention as they headed out to the stage in District Eleven. It would prove to be an odd one compared to other districts simply because the mayor's son was one of the tributes killed.

The people in the district didn't seem to be interested in Logan much one way or the other, and when he managed to glance up at the platform for Ororo's family, he had to frown on seeing that it was empty. He stared at the empty platform for a while, and though he didn't step forward for a speech, he managed to break protocol again — in a new manner — when he did step forward to T'Challa's father and shook the man's hand, keeping his remarks between them and well away from the microphone — to the irritation of those that were trying to put on a _show._

Although he had more or less tuned everyone out — he hadn't missed the replays on the train that outlined how both T'Challa and Ororo had died. He also hadn't missed the way that the announcers were talking about T'Challa and T'Chaka. The mayor looked confused for a moment as Logan kept his back to the cameras and managed to block himself from their view as he muttered something low and quiet that had T'Chaka very suddenly nodding solemnly before the two men parted company — and Logan stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Moira as if to dare her to try and force him to do anything.

T'Chaka paused and glanced back at Logan before he went back to the microphone and finished up, thanking their _friends_ from District Seven before the show broke up.

Logan and the little group barely got off the stage before they were stopped. "What did you say to him?" the Head Sentinel demanded.

Logan looked him up and down with a glare of his own, the two of them just out of sight from any cameras or the general public. "None of your damn business," Logan replied. But Moira gave him a _look_ that was hard to miss as the Sentinel looked like he was getting wound up. "But seein' as you need a lesson in tact, I told him that I thought it was honorable for the son of such a reputable family to have given everything for an orphan girl," Logan replied. "I told him that his son was better than just about all of them that were in that shooting gallery for dying the way he did. Protecting her."

When the man didn't let him go, glaring at him, Logan took a step closer and continued in a low growl. "Now take your hands off me before I break 'em."

That finally got the Sentinel to back off a bit, and Logan brushed past the Sentinel and past a nondescript SHIELD agent in a suit, too, who had a pleased sort of expression on his face as he watched the exchange. As soon as he was in a more secured area, he sent the word out to Hill.

"Put the others on notice. Our victor isn't very talkative. Timeline is cut substantially."

* * *

Seeing as one of the tributes this year was the mayor's son, it was a little easier to get past the usual security for his residence — but harder to be sure that they had enough time. Typically, the grieving families got to go home as soon as the speeches were done, which meant Mike and Clint weren't sure when to expect unexpected visitors. Which — as Clint pointed out — was oxymoronic anyway.

Clint rushed through picking the lock once Mike got them through the district, directing Clint on how to come around from the outside, since the tall blonde would rather stick out in Eleven — not that a half-cybernetic guy was that much more subtle. They were both antsy to get out of there and avoid getting caught, so when they cleared the house and dropped by the Sentinels' place as well in record time, they were feeling a bit pleased with themselves when Maria Hill came over the comms in their ears to inform them — and everyone else out in the field — that the timeline was much shorter than they'd been told in the debriefings.

"Get it done fast — prioritize and work efficiently and get _out_."

Clint just rolled his eyes at the transmission as he and Mike booked it back toward the jet. "Like we weren't already trying to high-tail it."

"Clearly, you haven't worked with her yet," Mike said. "If she doesn't tell you what and how to do it, doesn't matter how many times you have. You won't know, according to her."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a real big fan of micromanagement. Or … management," Clint said with a shrug.

"Then you're not going to be a big fan of the next few runs of missions," he replied.

"Least we're out here doing something, though. Could be stuck back with the vampire," Clint pointed out, panting slightly as they reached the edges of the district borders.

* * *

 _Tahiti Hangar_

* * *

Since Ororo was one of the pilots for the massive runs of missions, she was scheduled to spend most of her time out in a jet. But thanks to the combined efforts of the resident Tahiti genius squad, the jets had been outfitted with little screens in the holds — not in the cockpits, because "no distracted fliers allowed," according to Tony.

She was waiting in the hangar to pick up Peter for the next run; she already had Steve with her. And honestly, she hadn't really been thinking much about watching the broadcast of the victory tour. She liked Logan from when they had interacted in the Capitol, but they hadn't seen each other in the Games, and she knew if they said anything about her at all, it would just be about how he'd gone with Steve to take on Cletus.

And that really wasn't something she wanted to relive.

But Steve had switched on the broadcast — whether to kill time or out of curiosity or whatever else, she wasn't really sure. And Ororo couldn't quite fight the curiosity either, so she ended up with her chin on Steve's shoulder, watching as the broadcast covered Logan's arrival.

They showed the family platforms, too, and Ororo wasn't surprised to see that hers was empty. The Capitol wouldn't consider her new family, her _found_ family, to be eligible, but she found that she was searching the people shown in the crowd for familiar faces, like Forge — who looked… he looked downright crushed. She felt her mouth go dry seeing her friend like that and — for a moment — closed her eyes to stem the tide before it could overflow inside her.

She didn't have anything to say at all when Steve turned her way, and she was grateful that he didn't ask her anything or try to offer any words, because that would just feel empty.

She watched Logan speak to T'Challa's father and was surprised by how similar T'Chaka and T'Challa looked. Or maybe it was just that they had that same, resigned expression, the one T'Challa had been wearing since pretty much the moment he was reaped.

The cameras didn't catch what was said, but Ororo had a feeling it was enough. Enough to properly remember T'Challa and enough to give T'Chaka a moment of grief in privacy.

When she saw Logan — when this was all over — she would be sure to tell him she was grateful, because her district partner had deserved that respect.

As the broadcast shifted when Logan left, she cleared her throat and clapped her hand on Steve's shoulder. "Thanks," she muttered quietly.

"Yeah. No problem."

* * *

 _January 4_

 _District Ten_

* * *

"There's got to be something in the water," Skye mumbled. She was still on the train with Coulson and staring down at the files for the kids she was supposed to look over at the next district.

"True story," Coulson replied with a straight face. "At least, if you're judging just by the ones on our radar here. It's a good thing that we're really just confirming on the ones Fury wants."

"They're insane." Skye made a face. "I know I'm the one who added in the prison system, but seriously… they're… eww."

"Even with that, you only have one from the prison on your list. The other is _supposed_ to be from a fairly well-respected family. If … psychotics are considered respectable."

"I know every Games needs their bad guys, but I'm telling you, I'm not drinking anything while we're here. I'm serious."

"There are a lot of kind souls here too — consider this a culling-the-herd trip."

"Yeah, first time I don't think I'll be too torn up about taking them out of their districts. Ten could use a break." Skye made another face and closed the files. "Not that we'd have time for much more. No family for either of the tributes from this past year, and it's not like the new victor is talkative."

"He's gotta say something sooner or later though," Coulson said. "I hope."

"You really think he's gonna start talking in the psycho district?" Skye raised an eyebrow.

"He did kill one of them," Coulson said with a shrug, and the two of them met gazes for a moment before Coulson started to shake his head. "Alright... No. No not really."

"He killed one and helped to kill the other. And he didn't really seem torn up about it, so… my money's on the next district," Skye said, leaning over in a whisper. "I mean… _Kurt Wagner_."

"Yeah. that's going to be a rough one. I'm more curious on what the families are going to do there. I'll bet the kid won't handle it well, though I sincerely hope he proves me wrong."

"He made it through Twelve alright," Skye reasoned.

"By the skin of his teeth," Coulson corrected. "And he's probably still under the false assumption that he and Bishop were on good terms."

"True," Skye had to admit. She picked up her files and shoved a flash drive in her pocket, where she was keeping a running tally of her notes. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

* * *

Logan's showing in Ten was almost … hopeful for the agents. Again, he didn't have a thing to say, though he also didn't look the least bit broken up about it either as he simply crossed his arms over his chest and looked to Charles and Hank instead of the crowd.

The escort of Ten was sensational, though, and he seemed to have plenty to say before he introduced the group from Seven, though when he gestured for Logan to step forward, Logan simply settled into a deep glare that clearly was meant as a dare.

The gray-haired, mustachioed man cleared his throat a few times and simply moved on to other things, leaving Seven's officials only _slightly_ embarrassed for their new victor's refusal.

* * *

With the compressed timeline, Steve was a bit worried about Peter rushing through everything and making mistakes, because the kid was clearly nervous about getting back on time to get in the air so they could split for their respective next assignments.

But Steve couldn't be there to watch out for Peter the whole time, so he just had to trust the younger Tahiti operative to be on the top of his game setting cameras in the mayor's office while Steve took the Sentinels' headquarters. At least for this district they didn't have to worry about bugging the Victor's Village, because Charles and Hank really spent more time in the Capitol than at home anyway.

But Steve had to laugh when Peter's voice came over the comms. "Are you listening to this escort guy? His voice carries, Cap. I mean, it _carries_. I think they can hear him in the Capitol without the microphone, just lean him out the train window and let him shout until he turns purple."

"Okay, he's buying us a little time? So _maybe_ don't hate too hard on the guy. It's not like he's calling anyone a menace or anything," Steve replied with a little laugh.

"That's because he doesn't know us yet, Cap. We _are_ menacing. I'm terrifying, personally," Peter shot back, obviously laughing.

Steve just had to shake his head at that, smirking to himself as he finished the rest of the setup and — thanks to the talkative and opinionated escort — even had enough time to double-check the placement before he headed back to rendezvous with Peter.

He was almost concerned for a moment when he didn't see his partner at the rendezvous point — until Peter poked his head in Steve's face, upside-down from the low awning roof of one of the ranch-style homes nearby.

"You're late," Peter told him semi-seriously.

"You're upside down," Steve said with a smirk.

"I was bored waiting for my slow-poke pardner," Peter said in an exaggerated cowboy accent. "C'mon. This town's about to be too full for the both of us." With that, Peter flipped over the edge of the awning and landed, crouched, beside Steve to flash him a thumbs up and then stick said thumb in his imaginary belt buckle before the two headed off.

* * *

 _January 5_

 _District Nine_

* * *

"This one's got a lot of family names," Skye said doubtfully as she dropped into the seat next to Coulson on the train. "Aren't people going to notice at some point?"

Coulson let out a sigh and nodded his head at her assessment. "I know the algorithm is picking these based on their abilities, but if it's all the same to you, I'd like to just … throw out any family names if we can. They've been hit too hard already, and it will definitely look staged if we keep hitting the same families."

"Good, then I won't bother with last year's twin brother — or her little sister," Skye said, already tossing the files. "And that sweet little Wagner girl?"

"Yeah, don't … don't have her in the running."

"No kidding. That — that would be hard to watch." She let out a long sigh as she tossed that file as well.

"So that leaves the one girl," Coulson said with a sigh. "How about the boys? Any choice there — or are we getting down to default there too?"

"We've got two left," Skye told him, a bit of sparkle coming back into her gaze. "And I've got to tell you, both of them are going to be good for drama if this pans out right."

"How so?" he asked. "They looked like a couple of regular kids last I read."

"Yeah, but it's more their relation to other tributes. I mean — this kid with the taste for detective novels has a thing for our girl pick? And the other one… I looked into his background because of the last name, considering our options for Seven…"

"You can't get those lumberjacks out of your head can you?" Coulson teased. "Does it hurt your concentration that we brought the one with us?"

"Oh definitely," she said with a smirk. "The problem is they stay in my head and not in my reality." She gave him a wide, troublemaking grin before she went back to the file. "Anyway, I looked into it, and we might have a whole separated brothers angle if we go with Fury's pick for Seven. Not like the Twelve-Four dynamic. I mean _real_ brothers, sent to different orphanages."

"That _would_ draw some drama," he said under his breath. "Excellent distraction."

"And better than the tired old romance angle. They overplayed that last year," Skye agreed, blowing out her breath.

"Yeah, where there was nothing there to play," Coulson agreed.

"Which is dumb — I mean, there were _actual_ romances that were going on. Or trying to. Nine and Twelve, the Two romance… it was just lame."

"Yeah, but they were sweet romances. They wanted to play up the darker, dirtier angle. And the public bought it."

"Well, we _do_ want distractions," Skye said, shrugging openly. She ran a distracted hand through her hair before she blew out all her breath. "Anyway, it seems like we've already got a pretty good idea, but I'll take a look at the two guys just to be sure. And drop by the girl's place to double check she hasn't, I don't know, had an accident or breakdown in the past two days that would take her off the list."

"Try to dig up another girl for a reserve. I do _not_ want to hit any of last year's families if we can help it, but we need a backup in case this choice has, like you said, some kind of accident to prevent her from competing."

"Can do," Skye said.

* * *

Charles had made sure to stick close to Logan, as he predicted that Nine would prove to be especially difficult for the young victor. The nightmares that had been plaguing him hadn't ebbed in the least since the tour started, and the one that had gotten him up in the wee hours of the morning had been intense.

"It'll be fine, Logan," Charles tried to reassure him before they headed toward the stage. But Logan didn't acknowledge him as Jubilee stepped in and started her last minute primping. His ears were ringing as Moira went through her usual prep, and it was clear to all of them that it was going to be spectacularly bad for him.

Jubilee never took her hands off of him. If she wasn't readjusting a stray lock of hair or fiddling with his collar, she was smoothing out the fabric as it lay across his shoulders with a worried look on her face. But through it all, Logan just stared forward blankly.

Every footstep he took echoed in his ears as the mayor of Nine went through his long, wandering speech. When Logan stepped out, he tried to make a point not to look at the families. Or the crowd. Moira pinched him lightly, her little cue to get him to look up, but Logan turned his head toward the previous victors of Nine. And he quickly realized he'd missed something vitally important.

Erik Lensherr, the second victor, looked as if his whole world had just been ripped from him.

His face was the picture of perfect agony, and without thinking about it, Logan followed his gaze into the crowd, only to frown deeply at the scene unfolding before him. The woman on the platform for Wanda had her hand clamped over her mouth and her gaze firmly locked onto Erik. Both of them looked to be on the brink of a breakdown. It didn't make sense.

Until he saw the boy next to her.

He was tall and had almost white hair that looked swept back … and nearly every feature on his face was identical to Erik's. He looked between the victor and the boy quickly and made the connection as Erik's whole posture seemed to simply … melt a bit. A sob tore itself from the woman's throat, and Logan turned away from what he felt should have been a private moment.

He hadn't thought about what he'd see when he once again looked up.

The woman on the other podium had the same mask of grief that Logan had already come to recognize. They called it a victory tour, but in every weeping mother's face, he saw what it really was. A chance to torture the families — and make the murderer face their other victims.

Logan locked eyes with her and tried to form the words … even if no one heard them… but he just couldn't. Not when his attention was drawn by a young girl that suddenly buried her face in the woman's shoulder. He glanced at the boy on her opposite side that stood there bravely with tears streaming down his cheeks as he just stared back at Logan.

But then the wind caught the blue satin ribbon in the girl's hair, and something in him just … crumbled.

He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't even feel it as Jubilee and Moira ushered him off. All he could see was that little girl with the ribbon that matched the ones he'd tied to Kurt's wrists.

Coulson watched as Jubilee and Charles had each tried to talk to Logan, but it just didn't register with the kid. He let out a bit of a disappointed sigh as he leaned toward Skye.

"It looks like we're in for a roller coaster with this one," he said. "I had hoped he'd be alright. Fury is _not_ going to be happy."

* * *

"It's so _flat_ ," Kate said as Carol set them down on the outskirts of District Nine. She had never been to Kurt's district before — though she had been to several of them now over the course of all the missions the Tahiti kids were running — and she wanted to take in as much of it as she could.

She really should have realized it would be this flat, since Nine was known for wheat fields, but … they just seemed to stretch on forever and _ever._ Kate had long ago come to terms with the fact that Twelve was the smallest district and that her entire home was considered to be just the size of a few neighborhoods in comparison to some of the other districts. But it still surprised her, sometimes — the size of the world she hadn't been allowed to see until now.

She could just imagine Kurt out there, swinging a scythe in wheat that was taller than he was, telling pirate stories with his friends when there wasn't an ocean in sight, and the thought made her smile, though she straightened up and cleared her throat when Carol gave her a knowing sort of smirk.

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, which just had Carol smirking that much harder.

The girls had to rush more than any of the pairs before them had, because this time they had to get through two victors' houses as well as the mayoral and Sentinel spaces — though the sped-up timeline was likely the only reason Kate was allowed in Nine while Logan was, because that meant she was rushing through both Erik Lensherr and Drax's houses rather than being tempted to try and drop in on Logan and see how he was.

And she really, really wanted to check in on him, especially after she had seen him in Twelve…. If that was how he handled _her_ district… Well, he hadn't even killed _her_. Kurt… that was something else entirely.

Maybe if she rushed, she could still pull off a peek.

Kate ran through both of the houses and placed the surveillance devices quickly and exactly where they'd all practiced in the simulation room. The corners and hidden spaces in each room were well-covered by the time she left, and she had broken into a bit of a jog when Carol's voice came over the comms.

"Things are wrapping up over here; I'll have to meet you at the jet. Do you know how to do pre-flight?"

Kate frowned. "What's the rush?"

"I don't know — I didn't watch the show, but it's breaking up. I barely got out of the Sentinels' HQ before the crowd started to disperse."

Kate sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "I've only done flight sims a couple of times," she admitted.

"Fine — just do what you can. I'll meet you there," Carol replied, and Kate just let out a frustrated sigh. She'd hoped for a little more time, but now even she could see the first of the dispersed crowd coming in from the main square.

She wished she was going back to base, where Kurt was — since he wasn't scheduled for anything until halfway through the tour — but even if she was, she wasn't sure what she could do, seeing as Essex was keeping the boys and girls so well separated. But if he was watching — and she knew he was — he was going to need a hug _at least._ The fact that it had been so short didn't exactly bode well.

* * *

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Back in the Tahiti compound, Kurt had finally found a bit of free time after training, and he picked up a sandwich and a water bottle to more or less camp out in Tony's workshop so he could watch the broadcast.

"If I'd known this was a picnic, I'd have prepared better," Tony said dryly as Kurt sat down.

"I only have a little time for lunch, and unlike the girls, I can't just watch on Pepper's tablet," Kurt pointed out as he unscrewed the cap of his water bottle.

"It really hasn't been anything to watch, to be honest," Tony said, leaning back in his chair as he dug out a bag of his own snack food — which he kept stashed all around the place. "Pretty harsh, actually."

"How so?" Kurt asked as the broadcast showed the short recap of the Games for him and Wanda leading up to Logan's arrival.

"Well, he has yet to say a word publicly," Tony explained as he gestured toward the screen.

"He's never been talkative," Kurt said, though he was frowning at the news.

"Yeah, but this seems... different," Tony said, pausing and frowning over his words. "Not so much like he won't, more like he _can't_."

Kurt frowned at that and fell silent, watching the broadcast as it turned to the families — to Wanda's first as her mother and brother and sister gathered on the platform. He remembered that Wanda had a twin brother, and for a moment, Kurt looked away, suddenly unable to look at the young man on the platform — because he could only think of Stefan and Amanda.

And of course, when his own family was shown, it was impossible for Kurt not to let out a little gasp of pure… well, _everything_. Grief, yes, but also happiness at seeing them again. Frustration that he couldn't be there in person, anger that they were grieving when he was still alive — not to mention he was just downright _upset_ to see them so … stricken. Stefan was of course still trying to be brave, but Margali and Amanda…

Kurt had to look away and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

When Logan arrived, Kurt saw for himself that Logan was determined not to look at the family platforms, and he couldn't really blame him. That was torture in itself, seeing them so upset. It was just another reminder of the damage the Games had done, and it was even worse knowing that the grief and pain just ... didn't _need_ to happen.

Kurt watched his friend for a moment, sure that at least it was a good sign that he wasn't playing the game the Capitol expected of him — but then there was a bit of a distraction, something going on with Erik.

That's where Logan's gaze was anyhow, and that's where the cameras went as Erik and Wanda's family shared what was clearly a private moment, the emotions palpable even through the screen. Despite the fact that this was supposed to be Logan's show, the commentary from the Capitol exploded, pointing out the similarities between Wanda's brother and Erik as the pieces fell together for everyone watching.

No one had known — or they would have played it up much more before now. And it was clear even Erik hadn't known for sure, if the look on his face was any indication.

Tivan and Uatu were in the thralls of fresh drama as they marveled over all the implications of this revelation. They hadn't expected anything like _this_ to work with, clearly, and with such a silent victor, they were delightedly latching onto it.

"Do you think there was even the slightest suspicion on his part?" Tivan cackled.

"I'm sure _she_ knew," Uatu pointed out.

Tivan was all but giggling now. "Can you imagine? Sending your daughter off to fight and having to trust that your estranged lover would get her through… What a heartbreaking turn of events for the whole family." But Tivan didn't sound the least bit 'heartbroken.'

Kurt tried to tune out the commentary, though the camera was still frustratingly focused on Erik, with Logan almost a background decoration at that point, since it was clear he wasn't going to give them any salacious tidbits. But even in the background, Kurt could see that Logan's entire expression had changed, and it took him a moment to realize that the way Logan was pointed, even if he was no longer looking up — would have put him looking at the Wagners.

That was it for Logan. Kurt could see even in the background that he'd just… shut down.

"We have to see him," Kurt said softly.

"This is what happens," Tony said, shaking his head as he sat up a little straighter in his chair. "This is what they've always done. It doesn't make it any worse just because we knew him."

"Yes it does," Kurt insisted. "And what they're doing… we finally have a way to _help_. We have to see him. He doesn't have to suffer like this — it's pointless, needless, and downright cruel." His eyes were flashing, his lunch forgotten as he just _fumed_.

"There isn't anything you can do for him," Tony argued. "And he's got it coming for what he did."

Kurt was on his feet in an instant. "You don't know what you're talking about," he half snarled.

"You're right, it was just me that _didn't_ get hit by tracker jackers."

"You have _no idea_ what the Capitol did to him in those Games," Kurt spat out. "Don't talk about what you don't understand."

"What I understand is that your friend got screwed up in there. I saw the difference firsthand from when he helped _save me_ to when he took me down. He's not the same as you remember him."

"The Games changed all of us — and _none of us_ deserved it," Kurt said, still furious. " _None of us_ had it coming, and if you _ever_ say my friend deserves the torture they're putting him through again, I won't leave you in one piece." His hands were in fists at his sides, and it was clear he was only just reining in his temper. He was speaking through his teeth as he added, "You're a genius, Stark. Why don't you do a little research and find out just what _actually_ happened in those Games."

"I think I will," Tony replied, though he was regarding Kurt with a fair bit of caution by that point, especially since the younger boy looked like he was ready to throttle Tony then and there. "But I'm standing by my opinion."

Kurt glared at him hard before he said simply, "I look forward to your apology," and all but swept out of the room before he could lose his temper further and do something he wasn't entirely sure he would regret.


	26. The Brainiacs

**Notes: We're just trucking along through our tour over here ;) The name of the game today is Parker Family Feels and Miran and Silz being amazing again.**

* * *

 **Chapter 26: "The Brainiacs"**

* * *

 _January 6th_

 _District Eight_

* * *

"You know, looking at this list, I'm starting to think it was a _really_ good thing I was born in the Capitol, because you and Cerebro seem to have a thing for cute girls with tech skills," Skye remarked dryly. "If I'd been born in the districts, clearly I would have been reaped."

"It is a real danger," Coulson replied without even looking up. "Obviously."

"Obviously," Skye agreed, shaking her head a bit before she set aside the first girl's file and looked at the second — another with some good tech skills, though clearly that was more on the side of anything that helped her break into places.

"Believe it or not, just about _all_ of our potential tributes have high IQ's," Coulson said. "There are a few exceptions, of course, but it's almost a rule."

"Exceptions like the blonde kid — what's his name, Flash?"

"Eugene," Coulson replied. "And yes. He is an exception."

"The other guys are.. Interesting too," Skye said. "Here I thought Ten was our district for criminals, but there's two thieves on this list. The girl and the boy with the trenchcoat look."

"There are thieves in every district," Coulson said. "It just so happens that these two are exceptional thieves. The boy in particular."

"Yeah, I've read his file, and that's only on stuff they have enough evidence to _suspect_ him of. Nothing proven, and I'm sure there's more," Skye said, and it was clear from her tone that she was impressed.

"And the last boy? He's our perfect little boy next door, isn't he? Good family. Friendly. No criminal past."

"That's not sexy at all, Coulson," she pointed out with a little smirk.

"Well if you're going for sexy, you'll have to make the choices on your own. I'm supposed to look for the best one for the job," Coulson pointed out, his tone dry as he finally looked up from the files he was studying to look her way. "As it were."

"And isn't the job supposed to be about distraction?" Skye countered. "Face it, AC. You need some _sex appeal_ in this thing."

"Then make your suggestions and I'll send it in," he said, though Skye was pretty sure she could see him smirking. Or trying not to.

"If it's up to me? Both of the thieves. Good-looking, sex appeal, and we need some sneaky kids — and less adorable innocent ones."

"Final call is Fury's, but I'm not so sure he's going to want Eight to get a sudden reputation for thieves and pickpockets," Coulson pointed out.

"With a victor like Norman Osborn? Come _on_." Skye rolled her eyes and her whole body with them. "That's just a different kind of thief right there."

"A well-respected one," Coulson agreed.

Skye shook her head as she put away the files from Eight. "I'm going to go check out the guys. In every sense of the word. Eight is gonna get a whole different reputation than _you're_ thinking." With that, she just gave Coulson a huge grin and zipped off, leaving him stuck somewhere between a smirk and an eyeroll at her antics.

* * *

The morning on the train before they pulled into Eight had been interesting. Once the group had boarded the train in Nine the afternoon before, Lensherr had done something nearly unheard of within the older victors — and sought out the newest in their ranks.

With a few muttered words, Erik shared a drink with the young man, and then the two of them spent the better part of the night just drinking together in silence. And while that was fine for Erik — it wasn't the best thing for Logan to show up at the next district still feeling the effects.

Charles had seen it coming, and once the two of them were properly numb, he'd removed the alcohol to keep them from going further. But the morning had come, and it was clear that the shutdown that had started with Logan months ago was picking up speed with every stop.

Jubilee didn't seem to catch how off things really were until she was nearly done working over Logan for a shave. When she nicked his jaw, he didn't flinch in the least, and she became very tense all at once. "Hey," she said, tipping his chin up so he would look at her. "You can do this. Don't quit on me." But he didn't respond to her more than to just close his eyes and let her do what she wanted to him.

On seeing how out of it the new victor was, Charles made his way to Erik to intervene, scolding his old friend before he went to fretting over his new one.

"You know better," Charles said, frowning at Erik as he gently took the empty glass from his old friend, who didn't seem to notice that it was gone, staring out the window of the train rather than paying attention to what was happening.

It took a moment, but finally, Erik turned Charles' way, something glinting just behind his expression. "Do I? And just what is it that I _should_ be doing, Charles? I have played their games quietly, and still they took my _daughter_ from me. And for what?"

Charles let out a long sigh. "Erik—"

"You know nothing, my old friend," Erik said bitterly, turning his gaze back to the window. "Go back to your newest project if it assuages your conscience. None of us on this train can be saved, and you know it."

Charles let out a long sigh before, seeing that his old friend clearly was in no mood to talk to him — at least for the moment — he did just that, and found the newest victor to try to at least speak to him before the showing in Eight.

The combined efforts of Charles, Moira, and Jubilee had gotten through to Logan enough that he thought he would have been alright when they pulled into Eight, but he still had to turn away from Peter Parker's aunt and her quiet strength. She was the calmest of the family members in any of the districts. Everything about how she held herself showed true strength. Upright, bold … steady.

Though her cheeks were wet, May Parker had managed to muster up a sad, tight smile with tears brimming in her eyes. Almost as if she knew that Logan hadn't lied about trying to keep Pete safe outside of the bounds of their bet. Like she knew the truth. And somehow, that hit him harder than the lies that they'd shoved into his face at every stop.

Right after they'd boarded the train, Charles had tried to tell him that it was her thanks for taking care of Peter in the games, but … he really felt as if he hadn't — and Logan had refused to watch the videos to see how Peter had finally died, even though several people had tried to show him.

Jubilee was particularly concerned because of his reluctance to speak — especially after he'd walked in on her assistants in the middle of re-watching him kill Banner as the broadcast prepared for the stop at Six. He didn't seem to react to them, though, and instead of acknowledging anything that was going on around him, he simply found a quiet place to break out the liquor and began to drink.

Jubilee and Moira watched him from a distance as he just stared straight ahead and proceeded to get drunk. Neither of them knew what to do, but they were incredibly grateful that Creed was nowhere to be seen.

For over an hour after they'd reboarded the train in Eight, Jessica Drew and Sam Wilson had just hung around. They weren't even talking to each other, let alone him, though Sam looked like he really wanted to. When they'd tried to open up the lines of communication with a well-veiled attempt to draw him into their conversation, he'd told them to take their tea party elsewhere.

But where Sam looked guarded about Logan slowly draining a bottle of whiskey, Jess tried to use it. She crossed the car, and Logan watched her without turning his head. She took a seat right next to him on the little couch and poured herself a measure before crossing her legs and leaning back. He ignored her and drained the little bit that was left in his glass, continuing to stare at nothing until Jess moved to pick up the bottle again.

Logan watched her curiously when she started pouring more in his glass. When it was nearly half full, he tipped his head to her slightly before simply drinking again in silence.

It certainly wasn't Charles' favorite option, but at least Logan wasn't entirely hiding in that bottle. The old victor turned toward the stoic-looking agent hanging back from the group but watching the whole thing and gave him a very significant look, his message clear. This tour was tearing the young man apart at a rate that they couldn't account for.

"Still waters run deep, and in this case, rather dark." Charles told him as he left the car, leaving Jessica Drew to watch over Logan, with his stylist chewing on her knuckle nearby.

* * *

"Why won't you let me use the bow?" Wade asked in a full-on whining tone. "I am so totally awesome with it. I swear."

"Because it's mine, because I need it, because I only let Katie use it _sometimes,_ and you're not even close to Katie's level," Clint said in the tone of someone who had explained it too many times as the two of them made their way closer to Eight, wearing plain clothes and blending in much better there than Clint and Mike had in Eleven.

The whining crescendoed as Wade all but melted into a petulant six year old. "Come o-o-on!"

"No." Clint shifted his quiver so that it was out of Wade's reach too, just to be sure, before he just pointed with his free hand down the street. "Mayor's place is that way."

"Fine. Be that way. This would have been way more fun with Better Hawkeye."

"I doubt she'd let you use her bow either," Clint muttered Wade's way.

"Maybe not, but she's at least _nice_ about it," Wade countered as he darted off down the street.

Clint just shook his head at Wade for a moment, wondering for the fifth time how he'd ended up on babysitting duty _again_ before he headed to the Victor's Village. He just had the one house to get through, so he didn't expect it to take too long — but it was a nice, _quiet_ break.

Norman Osborne's place was pretty… ostentatious. Jess's down the street looked like she hadn't changed much since moving in, but Norman ... even from the outside it was clear that he'd been making changes. Fortifications, yes, but also decorations and such to show off how _successful_ he was with his business beyond just the money he got from being a victor.

Clint cracked the window open and climbed in from there. He made it through the living room and the kitchen just fine, placing bugs the whole way, before he found what had to be an office. It was probably originally a bedroom, but it had been repurposed — and the second Clint stepped through the door, a jolt hit him and his muscles locked up. He blacked out before he even knew what had hit him.

"Hawk-guy, come in, Hawk-guy," Wade said seriously after several minutes had passed and there was no response to his running commentary on the Sentinels in Eight and how much nicer they were under one Mr. Stacy. It wasn't like Clint to flat ignore him, even if he had irritated him earlier. "Hey. I'm done on my end. Are we meeting up at the plane … or …"

But when he still didn't answer, Wade swore to himself and rushed off toward the Victors Village. He guessed which house was the Goblin's based on the sheer size of the thing — the additions he'd made were too gaudy to attribute to anyone else.

He slipped in — the same way Clint had come and when he saw the Hawk lying there spread eagled and perfectly still he narrowed his eyes. "Hey big daddy hawk … come on. This ain't cool, fella." He poked Clint's foot with the tip of his sheathed sword and the frown just deepened. He took a chance and booted him a bit before he just grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him from the room and started slapping him lightly.

"Wake up, wake up … I don't want to kiss you but I will, Prince Charming," Wade sang softly. "Come on, I didn't bring my lip balm."

When Clint finally stirred, he saw how close Wade was and immediately, his eyes went wide. "You didn't — aww crap."

"Not yet, lover," he replied in a husky tone.

Clint just shook his head and grabbed onto the wall rather than Wade to push himself to his feet. "The place is booby trapped. FYI."

"Seriously? So far on this run both of my assignments have had booby traps. Think I better warn someone next time," Wade said with a distracted look as he got to his feet. "Huh. Well. they'll know we tripped it in there and look around. Probably find our bugs. Wanna check with the angry boss lady?"

Clint scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, guess we'd better," he muttered as he flipped on his radio. "This is Ronin," he said over the radio, using the code name for use in the field after he'd lost the fight with Kate to keep 'Hawkeye'. "Looks like our village target was booby-trapped. Entrance was compromised when I hit an electrified floor, so he'll know we were here."

"Abort that part of the mission," Hill replied. "They'll look for anything if you continue. Let him think it was a cat burglar that got lucky and got out before they could be caught. Knock over a lamp or something on your way out to make it look more authentic."

"Got it," Clint said with a nod before he looked toward Wade and switched off his radio. "Wanna knock over something and break a window? I'm gonna take something precious and earn my thief title."

"Dibbs on the window," Wade said with a grin.

"Have at it," Clint agreed, waving Wade forward as he looked over the gaudy decorations until he found something that looked like it might catch a petty thief's eye. The whole place had a sort of Halloween-y feel, but there was a jewel-encrusted pumpkin on the mantle that looked perfect. And when he got home, he'd pull out the jewels themselves and give them to Bobbi, just to give her something for Christmas after the fitted gloves she'd given him had surprised him. He stuffed the pumpkin into his quiver, paused, and grabbed a few more _ridiculously_ orange and jewel-covered things before he followed Wade out the window with a little smirk.

"He's gonna be so mad when he can't find his pumpkin prize," Clint said with a smirk. "Thieves ain't even in Eight anymore to shake 'em down and get it back."

"Wild goose chase for the win," Wade agreed as they booked it toward their jet. "Can I shoot the bow _now?_ "

"Answer's still no — but you can shoot one in the training room any time you want," Clint said, still smirking as they two of them rushed to catch up with their ride — the victory tour long over for Eight and the dispersing crowd close behind them.

* * *

Peter was a bit surprised that when he poked his head into Tony's workshop, Tony looked wary of who it might be before he saw that it was Peter. "What, were you expecting someone else?" he teased.

"Well, there was an angry Elf in here yesterday," Tony replied as he spun in his chair and hung his head over the back rest. "I was just hoping it wasn't going to be a repeat."

Peter's eyebrows shot up at that. "He's heading out again tomorrow, so he doesn't have the time... What'd you do to make him mad? He doesn't _do_ mad, Tony. You must have done something spectacularly stupid."

"It wasn't a stupid thing as much as it was… we had a disagreement," Tony said as he tossed his tools onto the bench.

"With Kurt? The master of politeness and sweetness?"

"Yes. Kurt. He said if I ticked him off like that again he wouldn't leave me in one piece. And damned if I didn't think he was serious about it."

Peter stared at Tony with wide eyes. "Oh… okay. I don't believe it, but okay."

"Don't worry about it," Tony said with a wave before he gestured for Peter to take a seat. "He'll realize how wrong he is sooner or later."

"That… I don't have time to explain to you all the reasons that's a bad idea, because the broadcast is about to start, but we're going to have to have a sit-down," Peter said, shaking his head before he produced a bag of pretzels big enough to share between the two of them as they watched.

"Yay, snacks," Tony said, diving in with him. "Best visitor so far."

"It's because I'm just so _awesome_. You know. Put the awesome in Team Awesome — that's me," Peter said with a grin as he leaned back in his chair and the broadcast played Logan's entrance, though the smile fell when Peter saw his friend. He looked… different.

"Oooh, that … your buddy's been drinking. A lot."

"How can you tell?" Peter asked, falling into an even deeper frown.

"Are you kidding? I'm used to seeing that in the mirror, or … I _was_ used to it before I got stuck in the Games." Tony shook his head lightly. "He's nursing a hangover at best. Still drunk at worst. Maybe he _is_ taking this whole thing hard."

"Was he like that yesterday? I didn't get to talk to Kurt before the early curfew…" Peter leaned forward, still clutching a handful of pretzels that he seemed to have forgotten about entirely.

Tony tipped his head to the side a bit. "No, he looked a lot better then. If he was drinking then, he was at least trying for moderation."

"Does this have anything to do with why Kurt was being a Rage Elf yesterday?" Peter asked.

Tony just furrowed his brow. "Seems like it. He sure wasn't feeling very chipper when he got done watching the festivities in Nine."

Peter scrubbed a hand over his face as he leaned in to watch the broadcast more carefully, though his concern for Logan was temporarily abandoned when he saw his Aunt May standing alone on the platform.

She wasn't even crying … just… standing there.

Peter didn't realize he was doing it as he almost unconsciously made the 'I love you' sign before he looked down at his hand and quickly swallowed, his cheeks red for a moment as he determinedly looked elsewhere, this time searching the crowd until he spotted Gwen. It was petty — but while he was glad to see Harry standing with her, he was even more glad that they weren't touching.

Peter wasn't really paying attention to the mayor's speech as he pulled his attention back to his former Games ally, who looked awful. He made a mental note to rewatch the Nine stuff after his home district so he could get a better handle on what made Logan look like _that_ , and he had just been running through different possibilities in his head up to and including an entire family of Rage Elves glaring down Logan from the family platform when Logan looked up toward Aunt May, and everything about him seemed to shift.

Peter had never seen that look before. On anyone. He'd seen something close to it when Uncle Ben had died and Aunt May didn't think he was looking, but she had never let herself close off so completely. But Logan? He was at advanced levels of ...done.

"I was going to try and see how long it took him to shut down, but he wasn't even up enough _to_ shut down this time," Tony muttered as he tapped his screwdriver against the palm of his hand.

"That proves it, though," Peter half mumbled, still staring at the screen.

"Proves what exactly?" Tony asked.

"Kurt told me about the interview crap and how they were saying Logan didn't kill me just because of our bet, and this _proves_ they're full of it. I mean, _clearly._ " Peter said in a rush, though he was trying hard not to sound too triumphant.

"Proves what? That he didn't murder you for sport?" Tony scoffed. "Pretty sure that was established."

"It _proves_ he liked me," Peter said with a grin. "Still does. Wasn't some stupid Games alliance bet won over a pool table. Friendship for the win!"

"Yeah, well. He doesn't look too much like a winner right now," Tony pointed out.

Peter's grin fell a bit as he watched his completely shut-down friend. "Yeah," he all but whispered. "We gotta fix that."

"Considerably harder to do when you can't contact him. Because you're dead."

"You underestimate me, Iron Man," Peter said, drawing up his shoulders. "Me and the rest of the team. We'll find a way. Or do you want to tell Rage Elf that he _can't_ do something?"

"Don't have to," Tony said, moving back to his work already. "Pretty sure he got the memo already, and if he had questions about it? All he's gotta do is look at the schedule and the assignments. Pretty clear that they don't trust you guys _not_ to try it."

"It's like they know we're _friends_." Peter frowned at Tony for a second. "Even if they won't admit it." He paused. "Any way you can show me what happened yesterday? And maybe Twelve too? I just … I think I gotta see what happened."

Tony looked a bit put out, since he knew the other 'team awesome' kids would have done the same thing — just for reference, if nothing else. He should have known. "Sure thing, spider lad."

* * *

 _January 7_

 _District Six_

* * *

"Can I just… _not_ observe the kids in this district?" Skye said with a look of distaste at the files in front of her.

"If I have to, you have to," Coulson replied curtly. "I still can't figure out why there's such a big criminal element here."

"Yeah, the drug concentration has nothing to do with anything," she said dryly, but she still looked put out. "Come on, I'll just — I'll go to the school, but some of these girls are just _evil_. I thought you said I wasn't going to get executed for mouthing off."

"Technically it would be a murder, not an execution." Coulson replied. "Execution is official. Same thing with assassinations."

"You are really not making me feel any better about this," she grumbled. She pushed her hair back with her hands for a moment. "At least the guys are pretty well set. Sinthea Schmidtt's, I dunno, boyfriend or whatever has been announcing to the world he's gonna volunteer since she died, so that's a shoo-in. I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole."

"Good. I didn't like the possible picks, and his backup has me feeling a bit guilty for even having him there."

"Yeah, especially after how much he helped Banner — and how much the Capitol has totally used that battery of his since," Skye agreed.

"Which is, incidentally, why the boy is at the top of the list — ousted only by a volunteer, of course."

"Yeah, I know. Gotta kill the smart ones so you can hoard us all. Again, _so_ glad I'm from the Capitol," Skye said in that same dry tone. She shook her head as she continued. "Can't we just take the third girl off this list and pick one of the psychos?" she asked. "She's like thirteen and adorable."

"She really is," Coulson agreed. "But again — if we don't have a few little cute ones, it'd be clear we were picking them outright."

"But… come _on._ What about this Nova chick? Can't we send her?"

"She does have an evil type of aura around her, that's for sure."

"Same with whoever this Callisto is. I can't really find anything on her outside of a long, long rap sheet. Tell me that's not more terrifying and better suited for death games than a sweetheart and avowed pacifist. She won't even kill spiders, Coulson." Skye just shook her head. "I mean — I get it. I do. I just don't like it. The little kids are the hardest to choose."

"Which is when we leave the computers to do it," Coulson admitted.

"Easy for you to say. I help _program_ the computers that do it," Skye muttered before she let out a sigh as the train came to a stop. " _Fine_. I'll go check out the psychotic women in this district. But I _am_ billing SHIELD for medical damages and psychological trauma."

"Part of your package," he replied blandly. "Even comes with tea if you do your sessions with Xavier."

* * *

"See if you can break a few things while you're in there," Sin told Kurt as the two of them hit the outskirts of District Six.

"That might tip him off that someone was there," Kurt pointed out.

"Yeah." She just shrugged at him as if she wasn't the least bit concerned about that particular possibility.

"Which … is a problem considering how high on the list of priorities he is," Kurt said slowly.

"He's not as important as he thinks he is," Sin said bitterly.

"Be that as it may, I have to follow the protocols, or Hill will never let me out again," Kurt replied in as sympathetic a tone as he could manage. "But if I can find a way to make him sit on a tack, I will."

Sin sighed dramatically but had to smirk all the same. "I guess," she allowed. "It'd be a shame if you were cooped up. Then I'd have to listen to Kate _complaining_ all the time."

"I'll just have to figure out how to take her off your hands," Kurt replied with a grin he couldn't quite shut down before he turned to head down the path toward the Victors Village. "Good luck. Cause lots of chaos."

"Good luck yourself, lover boy. Don't get too wrapped up in your daydreaming about the better-looking Hawkeye," she teased over her shoulder as she slipped on her hood and took off at a run for the center of the district, already weaving down paths that Kurt hadn't even seen before she took them.

Unlike some of the others who had the option, Sin had to wear the black uniform instead of plain clothes, since, well, this was her home. But Six was hard to navigate for even the best of operatives, and Sin was the one who knew how to tell what areas were in different gang territories — and by extension, which areas had to be avoided. And she didn't need intel to know — she just knew the markers.

Sneaking around the old factories, she noted the scratch marks on the door of the closest: three vertical marks next to a forked tongue. That was the symbol of the Serpent Squad, her old gang. This was the edge of their territory. She would have to be careful to make sure no one caught sight of her.

Half of her hoped Crossbones would recognize her, but she knew that was impossible. It _needed_ to be impossible. She couldn't afford the exposure.

Sin could hear the tour going on beyond her and even managed to spot the stage for just a moment, surprised to see that the newest victor was drunk out of his mind. He wasn't even paying attention to anything, and his stylist was half supporting him and looking somewhere between concerned and upset.

But she shrugged it off. She'd seen plenty of people do the same. Her grandmother, Susan Scarbo, for one thing. Easier to get numb after a trauma. So she just went right back to setting her cameras and determinedly not caring one iota about the fact that her father was refusing to stand anywhere near the 'family' areas.

Kurt was glad to find that there were no traps like they'd been warned of — at least not on the path leading up to the houses in the Village. After the mess in Eight, SHIELD was being extra careful with their operatives and had made it abundantly clear that if it looked like a trap — leave it alone. Losing an operative now, to anyone at this point, would totally destroy all they'd been working for.

Kurt was never more aware of the risks they were taking with him and the other Tahiti kids until just then either, because once he was inside the Skull's house … he did an automatic sweep of the room and froze on seeing the camera in the corner.

It wasn't one of SHIELD's — but there it was. He held his breath as he stared right at it, thankful of the mask that covered his face, but still, his part of the mission was blown before it started. It was more disconcerting when he realized that as he moved — the camera followed him. He wasn't sure for a moment if there was someone watching him or if it was tech. Either way though, he elected _not_ to speak before he slowly made his way outside.

With a heavy sigh, he went to his radio and called out to Hill. "Cameras inside the house already — not ours. They were tracking me, so I just … I didn't place anything."

He could clearly hear the frustration in Hill's voice when she replied, "There wouldn't have been any point in placing them when he could just see on camera where they were placed. Abort that part of the mission — but see if you can note the camera placement for future reference."

"Already noted," Kurt replied.

"Then get out of there. The tour is getting shorter and shorter."

Kurt switched off his comm after their short discussion. "Perhaps we should call her Captain Obvious for her code name," he muttered to himself before he headed off to the rendezvous point to meet up with Sin.

* * *

"Did you at least bring snacks for me, Sci-bro?" Tony called out as Bruce entered the lab. "I've got some … well. Some interesting viewing material, to say the least."

"I didn't get the memo, sorry," Bruce said as he slid into the couch nearby. "But I have some gluten-free high-protein granola bars, if you want one." He reached into his bag and pulled out a container, opening it and offering it to Tony. "With pecans."

"Health food? Seriously?"

Bruce shrugged. "Homemade by Cassie. Your loss."

"I wasn't refusing." Tony grabbed one and took a bite as he set up the video.

"So what are we watching? Mission overviews?"

"No." Stark let out a breath. "Game vids."

Banner's voice was flat. "Whose."

"Logan."

"Really." He took another bite and sipped from a bottle of water. "Any particular reason?"

"Yeah, Wagner nearly ripped my head off," Tony admitted. "But it got me thinking I needed to look." He paused as he watched Bruce for a moment. "We have time before your show starts in Six. Did you want to see what they sent our stabby little ally in those awful tapes?"

"Considering how they doctored mine? I'm almost afraid to watch," Bruce said. "And I'm certain I won't like it."

Tony offered Bruce a bowl of popcorn, which he declined, then nodded and started to queue it up. "Okay, so — what you _mistakenly_ assumed I was up to with Sin? Actual issue in Seven it seems."

"No. That doesn't sound like Logan," Bruce said with a frown.

"Oh, but it sounded like _me_?"

Bruce stared at him mildly. "I plead traumatic conditions. You know, the whole waiting to die thing. Doesn't really contribute to clear thinking." They shared a shrug before he went on. "So not Logan?"

"No, no," Tony said, shaking his head, though his eyes looked as if he hadn't slept well the night before. "Not Logan." He looked Bruce's way before he hit the play button — the uncut version that included Logan's reaction from two angles that they'd cut from for the air.

Bruce only made it through half of the uncut tape before he was on his feet with fists clenched and a ground out, "Turn it off."

Tony didn't hesitate to do exactly that before he glanced up to watch Bruce. "It goes on like that until Logan actually … destroyed the whole cooler. With a look on his face not unlike the one you have right now, big guy, so..."

Bruce was taking deep breaths, trying not to smash Tony's workshop. The rage tingled in his fingertips for a good long time, and he didn't trust his voice, closing his eyes and forcing himself to think. This explained so much, and he was glad Tony had shown him the truth, but still...

"You'll be happy to know that I've discovered through my extensive digging that Logan has been trying to pound Creed half to death every chance he gets," Tony said. "It seems they're pretty evenly matched when Logan hasn't been drinking."

"Good," Bruce said through his teeth, the single word coming out almost like a grunt. He took a few more breaths, slowly calming down. "That… explains how the Games turned out for the final five."

"Yeah. Brutal."

Bruce finally sat back down, pushing his hands back through his hair before sipping more water. "I didn't realize it was this bad, but… it explains why the kids are that worried about him. He's gonna need help."

"I _still_ maintain that he can take care of himself," Tony said mildly. "Personal experience in that matter."

"Oh, I'm sure. But those kids are first-class worriers, in case you haven't noticed," Bruce said with half a grin, at least _acting_ perfectly calm. "You should see Peter when he thinks any of the geek squad are missing regular mealtimes. Not that you notice anything but coffee at that point."

"Yeah, Parker was down here yesterday — he's something else," Tony agreed as he switched the feed over to the official Capitol coverage of the tour. They were showing the highlights of the kids from Six — and it included a lot of footage behind the scenes of Bruce and Sin joking around. "Makes you two look like regular buddies," Tony commented of the images on screen.

"They do seem to like playing up relationships from our year," Bruce said, although clearly he didn't entirely disagree with the assessment. "We got along okay, oddly enough. And I do mean oddly." He shook his head. "She's a good kid. Just... damaged."

"I seem to recall them liking to build up _all_ the relationships, including those of the imaginary variety."

"No kidding," Bruce said, shaking his head as he watched the higher-ups from Six filing out on the stage. The mayor was there, of course, and Schmidtt — who had strategically positioned himself on the opposite side of the stage from where Sin's grandmother was alone on the family platform.

"Oh. Well, look at the Claw-meister. That's … that's what we call progression," Tony said, wide-eyed as he took in Logan — slightly wobbly and very clearly feeling little pain. "That's much worse than yesterday. But ... he's got a _real_ clean shave."

"He shouldn't be drinking. Not this much." Bruce's voice was quiet as he stood to get more water, but clearly there was more on his mind. "It doesn't fix anything, just puts it off."

"Fix it? No. Numb him up so he doesn't have to think about it as much? That's a big fat yes, and before you ask, yes. I would _kill_ for a bottle of scotch right now."

"Considering the lockdown we're under, I don't think I can find one." Bruce grimaced at him.

"Maybe we should put together a still—"

The expression on Bruce's face froze Tony in mid-sentence, and he rose from the couch as well.

"—or not? Something on your mind, big guy?"

Bruce opened his mouth, but hesitated just long enough that the presentation on screen changed to a recorded video, while Tivan's voiceover went on. "And here we can see the wreckage of the classified lab where just a couple months ago, Doctor Brian Banner, a valued member of the Capitol science wing, was killed in a freak explosion. Such a patriot! Footage shows that even after the alarms sounded, he ran back into the labs to try to save valuable state equipment..."

"What?" Tony whipped around and stared at Bruce. "Your father?"

The other boy's eyes remained glued to the screen as they showed a headshot of the man, looking much younger and less haggard than the last time he saw him. Tivan went on, in an abruptly emotional close-up. "I'm sure his son would have been very proud."

Tony's eyes widened. "Your mission…"

"Don't."

"Look, Bruce—"

"You don't understand."

"Was that your _mission_? To kill your father? That's _insane_. They couldn't have—"

"No. No, it was to take out the terrigen lab." Bruce dropped heavily down to the couch once more. "He was there. I… I tried to get him out."

Tony stared while Bruce's gaze drifted to the ground. He saw the other boy's fists clench and unclench spasmodically, and waited.

"He… went back in."

Tony's expression went from a concerned frown to instant comprehension. "Crap. He went back for his still, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

Tony paused over his next words but tried to get them out all the same. "Hey. I know you did everything you could. You're not the type to… you're not."

There was a heavy sigh. "I hope you're right."

They watched in silence as the camera focused on Logan once more, who was frowning lightly. Perhaps he had just heard that Bruce's father died and wondered what happened, or perhaps he was thinking of something else entirely. It was impossible to know.

But Bruce had a feeling.

Tony sighed, his thoughts similar. "It's like I told the kids — nothing we can do about it from here, and nothing we could do anyhow because … we're dead. Can't ease his guilty conscience. Though. It is nice to see he even _has_ a conscience."

Bruce nodded. "It's gonna take a lot for him to get past this," he said.

"You're assuming he'll stop drinking anytime soon," Tony said, shaking his head.

Crossing his arms on his chest, Bruce raised an eyebrow. "What, you think they'll let him stay that way in the Capitol?"

"Easier to manipulate and push around," Tony replied with a little shrug. "Really depends on what they make him do while he's there."

Bruce shook his head ruefully. "You ever get the feeling we actually dodged a bullet by dying in the Games?"

" _Most_ of the time, yeah." Tony looked up at Bruce with a wide-eyed expression. "Not that I'm going to thank him anytime _ever_ though."

"Yeah, well. We all had our moments. I was dead anyway," Bruce said with a sigh. "Wouldn't have made any difference."

"I don't think I could have killed you if it was me," Tony said, tight-lipped as he clapped Bruce on the shoulder. "Rogers, sure — that guy." Tony let out a little shiver and an eye roll. "He irks me."

Bruce coughed out a little laugh. "Good thing you two weren't the final two, then. You'd spend an entire day sniping at each other before you even got around to fighting."

"Plenty of time for dramatic shots and heroic camera angles," Tony said, posing with his chest thrust manfully forward before he tossed some popcorn into his mouth.

Bruce chuckled in spite of himself, before staring at the screen for a few more moments in silence. Without turning, he spoke quietly. "Logan's not the only one with a guilty conscience."

Tony was quiet just as long before replying. "We're gonna be okay. It'll be okay."

"If you say so," Bruce said, glancing once more at the coverage of Six before he shook his head at it and turned to leave. "Thanks for the company. And the info. The new bio-polymer for the artificial veins should be out of the incubator by now."


	27. One Step Forward and Two Steps Back

**Notes: We're gonna call this our St. Patty's Day update, even if it's a little early. But it does have our favorite green giant in it, so… ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 27: "One Step Forward and Two Steps Back"**

* * *

 _January 8_

 _District Five_

* * *

Skye had still made it a point to sit by Coulson on the train before every stop to go over her notes, but as the tour went on, it was clear that he was getting more and more distressed by the newest victor on the train and how… not-well he was doing.

Coulson was distracted, more worried about making sure that Logan was with the ' _right people_ ,' whatever that meant, so Skye kept her commentary about this year's tribute possibilities to herself — at least until after the tour stop and after she'd been to see the kids. After that, well, she _had_ to give her recommendation, and she would more or less corner Coulson for a quick update. But for now, she was more concerned with trying to ease her boss' mind.

"He's sitting with Jess again," she started out before anything else, just so that her boss had _that_ question cleared up first. When that got a sort of quiet raised eyebrow look out of him, she just shrugged up one shoulder. "Knew you'd ask. You had that look on your face."

"I just don't like the way things are angling," Coulson admitted.

"Yeah, I know," she said. "Nobody does. I mean, even just watching the broadcasts, it's painful." She gritted her teeth and shook her head — she really meant it, too. She'd never seen a tour that had put a full-on shutdown on display so prominently.

"For a guy that won't talk, he sure has a way of making an impression," Coulson said. "Though I'm curious on how today's stop is going to go."

"Considering the final showdown? Yeah. Me too," Skye admitted. "If, you know, he's aware enough to know he's in Five."

Coulson looked through the windows joining the cars, where Logan had shifted his gaze on to the screens without moving his head in the least. "He knows." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So. What have you got?"

Slightly surprised that he wanted to shift his focus, it took Skye a moment to react. "Well, I don't really know about this Karla chick," Skye said, arranging her files so she could give him the quick rundown and he could get back to watching his new victor with his 'Dad Face' on. "She seems like a carbon copy of last year's girl, except, you know, with a criminal record."

"That … is an interesting assessment," he said, turning to face her fully. "Go on."

"I think it would be a bad idea to put her in when one of our top picks is, well, Steve's best friend. That would basically be like having the same tributes twice over."

"What about the Carter girl? How does her profile pan out?"

"Oh, she'd totally wipe the floor with everyone, hands down," Skye said, this time picking up a little excitement to her tone. "I mean — she's got a spotless record except for one _tiny_ count of assault. With a _stapler_. But the guy totally had it coming; he's a sleaze — I checked."

"I imagine he'd have to have it coming if he got assaulted with a stapler," Coulson agreed. "You'd need to be awfully keyed up to pick that for your weapon of choice."

Skye nodded her agreement. "But on the other hand, the whole country knows she was Steve Rogers' girl? So if we're going for looking like it's random, that would be an issue." She hid the little smirk as she straightened her files again. She felt like she was getting better at this, but she didn't want to say anything.

"Well that won't do us any good then. She's out. If she's anything like Rogers, maybe we can convince her onto the right side of things once the ball gets rolling," Coulson said with a hopeful look on his face.

"Which leaves us with either the blonde copycat or the dark-haired young girl with, well, an attitude would be the best way to put it," Skye said. "Twenty-four counts of assault. Again, totally deserved, though."

"I think … we've done enough with blondes in Five — unless they're the backup," Coulson said.

"Yeah, if that's true, do you want to throw out the Simpson kid too?" Skye asked.

"It would probably be best," he said. "His profile read like a meltdown. We don't need that if we can avoid it. Romanoff was big enough of a disappointment last year, and no one saw that coming."

"Okay, then we've got a couple brunettes with less of an all-American smile than last time for frontrunners. We'll keep the blondes in reserve, then?" She flashed him a little smile at that.

"Sounds like a plan," Coulson said with a sharp nod. "Hands off on Rogers' girl would just … well.

I think it'd be a relief, because the way that someone else wanted to run this was with a different girl... I thought it would be too distracting for Rogers."

"Yeah, that would… I mean, the whole Games was full of that kind of drama."

"Anything else on your mind?" Coulson asked, almost looking hopeful that there might be something to add.

"Just… keep an eye on him," Skye said, motioning toward Logan. "I've got the rest of this under control, AC. Don't you worry."

"Sure. Take the easy job," Coulson said dryly before he gave Skye a tight, professional smile.

* * *

The pomp and circumstance at Five was a little bit more enthusiastic than the other districts so far — if nothing else because they'd come so close to another Five victor, and maybe in part because of the fine margin that Steve had lost by. It was clear that the district as a whole was proud of their tribute.

Charles had gotten Sam and Moira to hide the liquor late the night before, so even though Logan hadn't been drinking _yet,_ he was still a bit hungover and still decidedly _done._

The now-expected uncooperative angle was one that the districts were finally planning on — and those closer to the Capitol had the luxury of preparing themselves after seeing how it had gone down in the outer districts. As a result, the speeches in place were already a bit longer, and there were more flourishes that the outer districts didn't have — like the small brass band playing their local tunes far in the background.

To Logan though, the sound was irritating, particularly with the headache he was sporting. He narrowed his eyes at the loud little group of brass and percussion that only added to his foul mood, as if their merry-making was to be spiteful. Which, in all honesty, he wouldn't be surprised in the least if it was.

Logan had tuned out the orators, and when he heard his name, he barely spared a second to tip his chin up and glare at the mayor for a moment. But when he looked back toward the crowd for a moment, long ago having learned not to look at the platforms, he found a pair of people that looked like they _had_ to have been close with Rogers.

Both of them looked as if they'd like to spend a few minutes alone with him for a beat down, but the girl looked far more serious between the two — and the boy seemed like he was almost trying to emulate the fallen captain. The brunette with the bright red lipstick and flashing eyes looked deadly serious as she stuck her chin out and kept her composure, while the boy did his best attempt at a death glare.

Logan met his gaze for just a moment, and when the young man got more of a hateful tone to his gaze, Logan just glared right back. When the young man in the audience seemed to get more angry at him for it, Logan couldn't help but smirk the slightest, though there was no mirth in it at all.

Of course, Logan didn't _say_ anything during the stop, but Coulson had seen the interaction and was already frowning to himself, considering their plans for the next year. Skye would say this meant there was drama potential, but all Coulson could think was that Logan wasn't exactly helping his case if the first sign of life from him was to glare at the best friend of the last kid he killed.

He just shared a look with Peter Quill as the Five victor followed them onto the train, and Quill nodded the slightest bit, heading to join Jess and Sam in looking out for the newest victor.

* * *

The two Hawkeyes weren't splitting up for this job, because they just had to bug the mayor's house and the Sentinels' headquarters. Peter Quill was already on Fury's side — and even if he wasn't, he spent more time in the Capitol than in Five anyway.

So it would be easier for them to just work together — and besides, Clint had been more or less told in no uncertain terms that if he let Kate get too close to Logan, it would be on _his_ head.

"Why the heck do they have a brass band? That's just… they're _supposed_ to be having a solemn occasion, right?" Kate said, making a face as the two of them approached the window to the mayor's office, which Clint had absolutely no trouble breaking into.

Clint gave her a bit of a boost over the window sill and just shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe they're celebrating how close Steve got. Way ol' Cap tells it, that's a pretty big deal so close to the Career districts."

"Culture shock," Kate said with a shrug as they climbed in.

Clint glanced Kate's way for a second before he let a sly smile pass over his face. "Hey, Hawkeye, why don't you take the main room. With the windows that face the stage," he said straight-faced as he headed up the stairs, with just a quick glance over his shoulder to see the look of pure excitement on his partner's face.

Besides, Clint knew that he was fast enough running these missions after the first two rush jobs that he really could have done this whole thing on his own.

Kate set her cameras quickly and rushed to the windows to watch, surprised at how _horrible_ Logan looked as she went from excitement straight to concern. He was obviously hungover — she'd seen that look on her dad's face enough times to identify it — and it was clear watching his little stylist's expression that it had been going on for long enough to be a concern.

They'd put together a tribute for the fallen kids from Five, of course, and Kate had been so wrapped up in watching Logan that she hadn't been paying enough attention to know she should prepare herself for the replay of her fight with Steve. Which was… an _experience_ on its own.

She hadn't seen the interviews herself, so she had never actually seen the footage of that fight. And it was weird watching herself on the screen. She didn't even really recognize that girl as herself, because she just didn't look like her.

Kate bit her lip and looked away, her heart pounding in her ears as Clint got back down the stairs and she ran over to meet him. "Sentinels next, right?" she said a bit breathlessly, and Clint raised an eyebrow her way before he just nodded, and the two of them slipped off to go take advantage of all the pomp and circumstance giving them _plenty_ of time to bug their next stop.

"You doing okay, Katie Kate?" he asked her in a low tone.

"Fine. Logan's not doing so good," she said, waving her hand at him, and Clint just frowned at that.

"Yeah, I saw bits and pieces on the jet," he said simply, and she let out her breath.

"They're tearing him down even worse with this crap," she said as they jogged alongside each other. "I don't see why we can't just… let's go get Thanos and be _done_ so he doesn't have to _do_ this."

"Remind me to explain the term 'power vacuum' to you sometime," Clint said with a frown.

"Just be happy you didn't say that in front of Wade."

Clint made a face. "Look, I'm just saying — I don't agree with SHIELD, but I get it. Think the Red Room would be any better for running things? We take down Thanos without taking out the guys waiting to snatch up the throne for themselves, and next thing you know, we're all being turned into puppets like Tasha was."

"Not if we take over first," Kate argued.

"You wanna stick Fury the Gamemaker on a throne too?"

"No."

"Then maybe just do what I'm doing. Kick up a fuss about the guys that need getting — so we get them sooner and get that one step closer to freedom."

She glared at him for a moment. "How can you be so calm about this?"

"I'm not," he argued, and for the first time, he let it show as he turned sharply to face her. "It pisses me off they're still screwing with everyone. But look, I've been trained how to think like this since I was a kid. When you spend the whole time assuming everyone's trying to kill you, you sorta get SHIELD's worldview."

"That is the worst kind of glass half empty outlook ever," she muttered.

He shrugged at her as they reached the Sentinel headquarters and he set to work on the door. "Keeps me alive. And you, for that matter."

She just rolled her eyes at him and stuck her tongue out with one hand on her hip. "Whatever, _Ronin_." She waved her hand at the headquarters. "I'll take this side." With that, she just headed off, and Clint rubbed a hand over his face. He liked Kate, but sometimes she was just… she was young and naive, and he liked her that way, but it was…

"Whatever," he muttered to himself before he headed off in the opposite direction.

* * *

It had become a thing for any of the guys at base in TAHITI to go watch the festivities with Stark, and Steve was back just long enough to rest well and double-check the latest intel before heading out to his last run for the tour.

Bruce had warned him — and Peter too — that snacks were something that made dealing with Stark a bit easier. "Popcorn, pretzels, and … something from Ororo," he announced as he set the stack of stuff down. "The girls appreciate the feed you sent to the tablet. This is their thanks."

Tony lit up when he realized that Cap was acting as messenger boy and dove into the package of goodies. "This should keep Spider-lad off my back for a while. Hard to get mad about not eating when I have food here."

"He's been babying everyone since he woke up. Don't act so surprised," Steve said with a smirk as he sat down in the usual seat where people watched the broadcasts with Tony. It was too bad Carol wasn't there — she was already headed out to Four to meet up with her partner for that mission. He didn't know what to expect from Five, and it would have been nice to have his partner there to watch with him.

"Still, it's nice to be paid for my inventions from time to time," Tony replied as he popped a few dried cranberries into his mouth. "Tell me, are we going to have a whole ... misery and upset session, or can I count on you to _not_ fall apart on this one?"

Steve gave him a dry look. "I'll try not to cry on your shoulder."

"Good, that's how rumors get started around here, and I'm not sure how I would handle it if Essex decided to keep the guys apart from each other too."

"I'd be more concerned about Pepper trying to kill me in my sleep," Steve said with a smirk.

"Well if she can find a way out of her room and into one of our rooms, no offense, but I hope she finds me first."

"You and me both," Steve said, still smirking. "You know, you might want to suggest to her that she ask Kate. Seems to me she and Kurt have something going on to get around the lockdown."

"I think I will," Tony said, leaning back as the feed was just getting past some of the 'highlights' and into the meat and potatoes of the affair.

Carol's family was miserable-looking, as expected, and Steve had never been so happy and heartbroken at once to see his mother — all alone. The longing to go home was crushing. But at the same time, the relief when he spotted Bucky with Peggy ... was overwhelming. Just seeing those two _alive_ and okay… for a second, he forgot about everything else.

"Looks like our victor sobered up a little bit. _Just_ a little bit though."

"This is sober on him?" Steve asked, blinking out of his thoughts and back to reality.

"Lately," Tony replied with a frown of his own. "He hasn't been this … clear looking since oh, maybe Nine?"

"Ah. Kurt's district," Steve said simply.

The two of them watched through the mayor's speech and all the pomp and circumstance, but since Steve was still watching Bucky and Peggy whenever they were on screen, it didn't take him any time at all to spot the staredown that happened between Logan and Bucky. Because of course Bucky didn't know the whole story, and even though Steve _did_ know — he'd asked to see everything almost as soon as he was up — he couldn't help but smirk as his best friend in the world did his level best to glare at the guy who killed Steve.

"What's the story with those two?" Tony asked.

"That's Bucky," Steve explained. "He's been my best friend since we were kids. Or, well, younger kids."

"And the pretty little brunette?"

Steve looked a little pinker. "That's Peggy."

"Well they're putting up a good united front of murder-face."

"Yeah, those two together have always been trouble," Steve said with a smirk.

Tony was quiet for a moment as he watched the feed. "We … didn't get anywhere closer to the whole story. How much do you think _he_ knows?" He'd timed it so again, the camera was on Logan when he asked, and Tony simply turned to Steve to read his full reaction.

"Only as much as he was told," Steve said with a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So probably nothing."

"So I'm not off when I say to the 'awesome' kids that the chances of them ever reuniting is likely slim to not ever gonna happen."

"Yeah, don't tell them that," Steve said with a distasteful look. "We haven't got much except hope and a prayer cooped up down here. Don't screw that up for them."

Tony ran his fingers through his hair and nodded in response. "Yeah. Good point," he had to admit. "Kurt was ready to cut me down the other day. First believable death threat I think I've gotten ... and only after I was already dead."

"Well, you ticked off the kid who operates purely on hope and a prayer. Why are you even surprised? I thought you were some kind of genius," Steve said, the smirk returning.

"Yes. A genius. That works on _logic_."

"And who can't imagine ever being wrong." Steve shook his head at Tony before he popped some popcorn in his mouth, smirking around the handful as the broadcast covered the exit from Five.

* * *

 _January 9_

 _District Four_

* * *

"There is no shortage of fighters here," Skye muttered as she settled in with Coulson. "I mean — there is literally an entire fight club of fierce ladies to choose from, not to mention some of the others on the list."

"Welcome to the first of the Career Districts," Coulson replied.

"Yeah, I'm not sure this makes my job any easier, actually. I think it was easier when there were just two or three choices for each spot," Skye muttered, half an eye on the huge stack of names. "I know the Careers usually have volunteers, but still."

"Just tell me who it is you'd like to see — top two. Evil doesn't even matter here."

"Well, if we want bad guys, the list is forever long just with the ladies."

"How about keeping it to the ones that read like they could keep up with Ten for nasty?" Coulson suggested.

"Then I'd say either Lorelai or Amora," she replied, pushing over the appropriate files. "They make a living out of keeping up with the boys. And twisting them up, too."

Coulson read them both over quickly and let out a sigh. "Well that would meet our dirty _and_ semi-romantic quota in one fell swoop."

"Amora's got a minion if you want him," Skye said, pushing over the file on Skurge. "If she volunteers or gets drawn, he'll be there in a second."

"That's … encouraging," he said with a frown. "It's been a while since the Careers had a solid pair working in tandem. You can't really count Thor and Brunhilde, since she was more on her own, really."

"And you can't count Barton and Romanoff, at least with the breakdown she had," Skye agreed. "But I don't think either of these names would have that problem."

"Romanoff was out of it from the bloodbath," Coulson said. "No, this … this is a solid pick."

"I'll put a few backup names on there just to be sure. I mean. There's plenty of fighters, like I said. But this year's Careers should really be stronger. Last year was almost pitiful."

"Agreed," he said with a nod. "Who else have you got for the boys?"

"Kid called Ares," she said, pushing over the last of the files from the top of the stack. "Have you _seen_ him? Or more appropriately, have you seen his _arms_?"

Coulson let out a sigh. "Never enough man candy for you, is there?"

"Never," she agreed with a wide grin. "And you can't tell me I'm alone. I've seen the SHIELD agents watching the Games when the _girls_ are on."

"No, you're not alone," he said, smirking a bit. "And the list of Capitolites looking for time with both guys and girls is a mile long."

"They're just… seriously, Coulson. _How_ the most recent victors managed to be such a string of lookers is just beyond lucky."

"Yeah, it's a real mystery," Coulson laughed.

* * *

"You holding up alright after yesterday?" Jan asked politely as she and Carol headed for the beach houses.

"That was yesterday," Carol replied. "I'm fine."

"I just remember it was hard the first year, especially watching the families," Jan said. "If you want someone to talk to or something, you are _so_ welcome to come find me. I don't mind being pulled out of Hank's orbit."

"Really," Carol assured her. "I'm fine. Let's just get the job done here. These people are … odd."

"Yeah, no kidding," Jan said, shaking her head, though she kept half an eye on Carol all the same. "And you know they insist on doing funeral pyres, so it's not like we can bring any of them back."

"Not that you'd want to," Carol replied. "They're not exactly easy to talk to."

"Yeah, but it would be easier to get over the cultural divide if we could _know_ a few of them," Jan said.

"Maybe, but for now? I'll pass. Considering the funeral pyre thing," Carol said.

"What, flaming zombies not your thing?" Jan teased.

"Well when you put it like that …"

Jan just laughed at that and waved her off. "Have fun at Doc Oc's place. Don't trip anything."

"Right — try not to get caught up in all that noble revelry," she replied.

One thing was for sure, even without the new victor's cooperation, Jan and Carol had no trouble with time. The manner of speaking that was most common in the district seemed to get more drawn out with each higher ranking person. Carol was sure that she could have stopped for lunch and still had time to go though both victor's homes with a break in between.

Octavius's place was … eccentric. Lots of half-finished experiments that looked foreboding no matter how you weighed them out, and just the layout of the place seemed ... creepy at best.

Still, with the warnings of booby traps that had been problematic for a couple of their group, Carol took her time and was very careful in how she approached every single move. There was one spot in the study that looked sketchy. At least, she spotted the laser alarms before she tripped them, which, was probably a good thing when she realized that there were pneumatic darts hidden in the walls — the tiny openings visible if you knew what you were looking for.

The house was wired in record time, and when she checked in with Jan, she wasn't surprised to find that they still had plenty of time to work. Odin's place would prove to be a cakewalk compared to what Octavius had tried to pull. She was sure of it.

"Wasp, let me know if you have any trouble," Carol said over the com. "I have concerns that you may be in grave danger of falling asleep."

"It's entirely possible," Jan said, snickering over the comms. "The real danger is the sand getting in my shoes. It'll be in there for months, I just know it."

"As long as it's not anywhere else," Carol teased. "That might be why they're so uptight."

Jan just snickered some more. "Alright, Captain Marvel. Just for that, I'm bringing back tons of sand and dumping it down your shirt."

"Get to work," she laughed back. "I know you have time, but come on. We should be done before our new victor falls asleep on his feet and insults them."

"Too late for that. He looks ready for it from where I'm standing."

"Too many late night parties, or something," Carol said. "You want me to wait for you midway or start the preflight?"

"Go ahead and start. I'm just finishing up here. I'll be there soon," Jan replied. "It's a shame we can't stay longer. I have totally lost my tan being cooped up, and it's just criminal."

"I didn't realize people from Seven had much of a tan to begin with," Carol commented.

"Rude. So rude," Jan giggled. "But unfortunately … very true."

* * *

 _January 10_

 _District Three_

* * *

Skye was looking for Coulson to give him the rundown on the choices for Three's next tributes. There were some real pieces of work in this district, and if they were going for something a little harsher than all the heroics last year, well, she had a good list.

But she didn't find Coulson when she stepped into the next car — instead, she found a stylist shouting at the newest victor, who was standing there shirtless. Skye tried to keep her eyes in her head, though she didn't immediately step back either as she took in the scene. It was pretty clear that there was a small disagreement on what he should be wearing.

"This is a nicer district — _please_ ," Jubilee was saying, trying to switch tactics mid-argument.

"And I told you, I don't give a damn about how _nice_ you think they are. I said no," Logan countered. "Now give me a damn flannel already, because I am not wearing that thing."

Jubilee let out a growl of pure irritation, the shirt she was pushing trying to push on him clenched in one hand as she stomped her foot. "Would you back me up here?" Jubilee said, turning toward Skye. "Pick one."

Logan just put his hands on his hips as the two of them turned toward Skye and Jubilee held up both shirts.

Skye flushed a bit at being addressed, as it was clear she was interrupting, but she didn't pass up the opportunity to be _invited_ to give the new victor a once-over as she thought it over. "I don't know. I like the rugged look," she admitted. "But if it's fitted to his arms…"

Logan just turned to Jubilee with a look that was so purely 'told you so' that it was hard to be missed. "Flannel."

"But … they're _all_ fitted …" Jubilee made another noise of protest and rolled her whole body toward Skye. "You were _supposed_ to back me up, lady."

"You asked my opinion," Skye said with a shrug. "I don't lie to people when they do that."

"Thanks for that," Logan told her as Jubilee all but threw the shirt at him.

Skye grinned at him for a second. "Hey, no problem. Glad to help where it's needed." She watched Logan slip on the shirt and start to button it up before she cleared her throat. "Um, actually I'm just passing through, looking for my boss, but if you need a second opinion, I'm just a couple cars over drowning in paperwork."

Logan smirked her way for a moment as Jubilee shook her head. "Yeah, you've been a _total_ lifesaver, thanks," Jubilee said with her arms crossed, laying on the sarcasm.

"Anytime," Skye said brightly as she slipped around them to the next car — where, in fact, Coulson _was_ stationed and just shaking his head at her.

"Enjoying the scenery?" Coulson asked in his most professional tone.

"Oh for sure," she agreed fervently. "We need more of it."

"He seems to be a little easier to deal with when the liquor is all hidden," Coulson replied.

"Yeah, that was like a whole conversation," Skye agreed as she slid into the seat next to him. "Don't know what you're going to do once we get to the Capitol and the champagne starts up."

"We'll get the other victors and stylists involved. Re-direction mostly."

"Smart. Let me know if you need help," Skye said with a wicked grin.

"Not sure how many of those parties we'll be going to," Coulson admitted. "But if we have to — well, I'm not sure you can meet the dress code."

"Excuse you. I can pull off anything. May's been working with me on my infiltration and acting skills."

"Be careful; we may have to test you on that."

"Oh no," she said in mock horror. "Going to fancy parties. How horrible."

"It is if they tell you that they want _all_ the victors on the dancefloor."

"Oh, well. Yeah. That would be hard with a few of them," Skye admitted. "And I am _not_ dancing with Victor Creed, I'm telling you that right now."

"Alright, enough with the hypothetical party assignments where you may or may _not_ have a snowflake's chance in hell of dancing with our new victor. District Three."

"And on to the Games hypotheticals," she teased as she pulled out her files for him. "I think Three might actually have a shot at being a Career contender this year," she said, straightening up in her best attempt to look a little more professional. "I know they aren't usually, but it's an open possibility, since they're an inner district."

"Alright, I've already seen the big list; tell me you've whittled it down a bit for me," Coulson said.

She nodded. "Girls first. We've got some real… psychos. Nefaria's got a penchant for torture, and I think this Chimera girl is totally mentally unbalanced, as if the name wasn't a giveaway. Not to mention Walker, who I think would give last year's One boy a run for his money if she wanted."

"See? It's not just Ten."

"Yeah, but they've got some real… yeah. Anyways, on to the boys." She plopped down three more files. "I really want to just nix Hammer, to be honest. He's a discount Stark at _best_. And that's really not the best way to start the Quarter Quell, with a repeat who doesn't even measure up."

"Fair enough, strike him then," Coulson agreed. "And the others? Seemed like there were more self important megalomaniacs lined up — or did they get cut already?"

"Well, Slattery is definitely a megalomaniac. And brilliant. And just… _mean_ ," Skye said.

"They did want more mean," Coulson replied.

"The other kid, Quire, he's a _master_ manipulator. And he's pretty good at causing pain without trying too hard, according to, oh, anybody who bullied him growing up," Skye said with a look of distaste.

"Well that's both horrible and encouraging, considering the kids we're looking at this year."

"Yeah, no kidding," Skye agreed. She let out a sigh and slapped one hand down on the files. "So those are my top two. We've got some nasties this year."

"I'll look them over. We'll use whoever we don't pick as the reserve."

"Sounds good." She shook her head as she left the files behind. "And we haven't even gotten to the other Career districts. They're just gonna get meaner, aren't they?"

"If history is any indicator? Very likely," he said with a nod. "But we need to get going — we're nearly there, and I'm not sure you're going to survive without trying to sneak another peek."

"How well you know me," Skye teased as she packed up and followed her boss to the train exit.

* * *

When they took the stage in Three, Logan was at least sober, which was a change. He was still pretty disengaged with everything around him, but to everyone's shock that was paying attention, he wasn't looking at the crowd at _all._ And oddly enough, it wasn't an avoidance technique.

It was the architecture of all things that had caught his eye. The older section of the district center had a heavy Far Eastern influence, and the upswept corners on the tile rooftops had Logan's undivided attention. He stopped only long enough to watch a bit of Tony and Pepper's tape, frowning deeply when he saw what he thought was the spin they'd put on the two of them.

The little freckle-faced redhead he'd met didn't seem the type at _all_ to try and take out her district partner purposefully. But at least at this stage of the game, the officials in charge didn't even bother asking him to step forward — because they _knew_ it just wasn't going to happen.

He did, at long last, take a peek toward Pepper's mother and Tony's father — both of whom were more devastated than he had prepared for. Though oddly enough, he was surprised when he met Howard Stark's gaze to find himself hit with a substantial rush of guilt for how things had ended with Tony. Especially considering it was really just a matter of wrong place and wrong time for the younger tribute.

But as fast as the guilt popped up, it dissipated when he realized that no one knew his reasons for going on the warpath like he did. They likely never would either. Just another victor that powered through the last few standing in his way. He drew in a deep breath to try and center himself, and when he opened his eyes again, he simply reminded himself of the _why_. It didn't matter if anyone ever knew. He did what he thought was the right thing at the time. At first to protect Kate — and then when he faced off with Steve — to punish her killer. That would have to do.

* * *

"You quicker than your other partner?" Luke asked with a bit of a teasing tone Kate's way. "Or am I gonna have to come out and hold your hand?"

"Only if you're ready to fight Kurt for my hand," she teased right back. "Just try and keep up with _me_ huh?"

"Alright, alright. We'll make it a race then. See who gets their job done first."

"I have an unfair advantage," she pointed out. "I just have the one victor's house, even if it _is_ probably booby-trapped."

"Well then I'll try to be quick to pull you out of the trap," he countered with a smile.

"Wrong Hawkeye," she said with a grin and a wave. "But if _you_ need any help, let me know, big guy. I have a penchant for rescuing sweet guys."

"We'll see how that goes for you," Luke said before the two of them parted company.

Kate didn't have a hard time identifying which house was Stane's, since there just seemed to be something about the victors they were going after and gaudy decorations that were probably supposed to make them look powerful but really just made them look like color-blind idiots.

She ran a quick check of the window before she would have broken in — and was glad she did when she saw the wires running over the ones on the first floor. She did find one that was unwired on the second, so she pulled out one of Stark's new toys. Grappling arrow — which he'd designed after he heard about Clint's rope trick in Two, because "that was painful to read."

She climbed up to the window and jimmied it open to climb inside, looking around for traps the whole time as she placed a few cameras in what was clearly an office. She'd only placed two, though, when she spotted the telltale red light of a camera and froze for a moment, watching and waiting before she took another few steps to the right. And like Kurt had reported in Six — this one tracked her movements too. Likely it was the same make and model, seeing as the victors were so close. And apparently super paranoid.

She shook her head but couldn't help giving the camera a little wave before she headed for her exit, knowing her cover had been blown.

She waited until she was clear before she called it in: "Whoever was in charge of intel for this severely underestimated the security measures these guys have."

"How severely?" Hill asked.

"Cameras inside, and the windows are all wired. There were probably more measures, but I got out when I saw the cameras," Kate said.

"At least there's that. Alright, I suppose that'll have to do for now," Hill replied in a clipped sort of tone. "Try not to get captured on your way to the jet. That's all we'd need this close to the finish line."

"Your concern is touching," Kate deadpanned as she shook her head and switched off the radio, headed for the jet to start up the pre-flight procedures.

She grinned at Luke when he arrived. "You lose."

"I actually _set_ my cameras," he pointed out with a little laugh.

"Yeah, unfair advantage to me. Life's so unfair, Luke," she giggled, patting his arm consolingly as he just shook his head and laughed at her.

* * *

Because of Essex's strict rules about non-fraternization in the Tahiti program, when the time came for the broadcast of the victory tour's stop in Three, Pepper and Tony couldn't get even half an hour of time together to watch it.

So they had to watch it separately, with Pepper curled up with her tablet in her room that evening and Tony watching from his workshop.

Both Cassie and Sin had offered to watch with Pepper, since they were at the base at the time and didn't have anything better to do besides training, but Pepper turned them down. She knew the Capitol recap would be playing up the fact that she had wanted Tony dead, and she still felt horribly ashamed about the whole thing.

She'd been stupid, emotional. And after all that, it hadn't even been worth it, because the second she was awake and alive again, Tony had all but fallen over himself to apologize and refused to let her try to apologize for _her_ actions. He was trying his best to make sure she was taken care of — and even kissing Tony now, after everything, was like an exercise in him apologizing, because he would always, _always_ stop the second she even paused for half a second.

So with all that, she just couldn't bear to let anyone see how horrible she had been. How she had plotted to kill Tony ... and what? Just so she could get an _apology?_

Pepper shook her head, biting her lip as she watched the video tribute District Three had put together for her and Tony. She had to face this, because she had to own up to what she had done, but she didn't have to subject anyone else to it, especially because she felt like she might burst into tears at any moment watching it.

She hadn't watched anything from the Games after she woke up because she was too ashamed of herself, so watching the tribute for Tony was news to her. He'd told her, more or less, what happened in overviews, but it was something else entirely to watch Tony's death in that armor he'd built for himself, because _of course_ he had managed to build something in the middle of those Games.

But, oh, it was so much worse once they showed the family platforms. There was her mother, who she _should have been taking care of_ instead of being holed up in this place playing secretary to Agent Coulson. And there was Howard Stark, who had never looked that much like he loved his son as he did now that he was gone. Both of them looked _devastated_ , and Pepper forced herself not to look away from the screen, because she knew it was her fault that they were both hurting. Her fault for taking Tony to the Games, for volunteering, for everything.

She was so wrapped up in watching the families that she completely missed what the mayor was saying. She missed the look on Logan's face because her eyes were brimming with tears. And when, mercifully, the whole thing was short enough that she could make it through without falling apart, she set aside the tablet when it was over and rested her head against her knees.

* * *

Tony looked up when there was a knock at the door, surprised that it was Bruce, bearing snacks. His science bro set the food on his desk with a little smile and a muttered, "Figured you might need something."

"Oh? Did you ever find that scotch?" He didn't look up from what he was tinkering with, which was a little something for the Spider-lad if he had to insist on climbing walls that might as well have been glass.

"No, sorry," Bruce said with a shrug. "But I brought coffee. And company, if you want."

"That'll have to do," Tony replied before he spun in his chair to face him with a tight smile.

Bruce grinned as he pushed a mug over and leaned back in his chair to watch as the broadcast for Three played, most of it familiar and nearly repetitive by this point, since they'd both been there for much of it and had seen the replays for the rest often enough.

"I can't believe that's the angle they're running with," Tony complained as he watched the recap before he seemed to shake it off. "But hey — alert the presses and the angry awesomes, our stabby little friend isn't drunk today. Yet."

"Probably cut him off. Career Districts." Bruce sipped his coffee thoughtfully.

"Likely," Tony said with a frown. But then he pulled a face as he watched the screen. "What the hell is he looking at?"

"Not Stark Industries," Bruce said, this time with a smirk.

Tony leaned forward to try and figure it out, picking apart the angles that he could see, and trying to remember exactly how it would be laid out. "Please," Tony said as he leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me he's not taking in the _architecture_ of the old oriental buildings when there are _scores_ of shiny, amazing, _mind-blowing_ technological advances to be seen."

Bruce chuckled at the look on Tony's face. "Not like the technological advances have been his style before. Were you expecting a sudden surge of interest in your favorite hobby just for thirty minutes today?" he had to tease.

"No — I just … who looks at that stuff?"

"Logan when he's not drunk, apparently," Bruce said, still entertained.

Tony froze when they showed his father for a few moments. In a quick move, he leaned forward and flipped the feed off. "So," he said, brushing his hands together as if it would clean the sight out of his mind. "What are we up to today?"

Bruce lifted an eyebrow before he shrugged. "Apparently, some of the countermeasures at the victor's houses were a surprise," he said, relaying what Hill had told him and the rest of the countermeasures team.

"That's what I heard," Tony said, though he still looked irritated. But instead of turning his attention to the problem at hand, he suddenly spun to face Bruce. "How about we get out of the lab for a few minutes? I could … hit something."

Bruce nodded, understanding exactly. "Alright. I'll spot you."

They were at the door of the lab when Essex appeared seemingly out of nowhere to stop them. "Don't you have work to do?" He spoke in a tone that bordered on violence as he blocked their path. "You're not to leave this lab until mealtimes."

"Seeing as I skip half of those or better, consider this me taking my breaks," Tony rumbled. "I'm going to the gym. So you can either get out of my way, or I'll just have to move you."

"Is that a threat, young man?"

"You bet your pale, creepy ass it is." Tony's tone was low, and just as dark as Essex's glare. The two of them were nearly nose to nose.

"Aren't we supposed to be rounding out our training anyway?" Bruce put in, in as mild of a tone as he could manage, although his fists were clenched. "I thought that was the point of our sessions with you — staying balanced, improving mental health."

"Right," Tony said, not taking his gaze from Essex or blinking in the least. "So we don't go all ... mad scientist down there. Start acting _crazy_." His voice lifted on the last word as his eyes grew wider, in an act that would have made Wade applaud.

"And I suppose the fact that your lady companions are training at this moment has nothing to do with your sudden interest in mental health," Essex said with a glare.

Bruce barked out a laugh. "Our lady companions? Seriously? When we all know you're watching them ever so carefully—" He turned to Tony. "Do you think he just wants to keep them, you know, to himself?"

"Watch it, Banner."

"I will if you will." Bruce's hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. By now, he and Tony both knew that they were valuable to the program — and that took a whole lot of this particular jerk's power away, no matter how scary he tried to be. He stared at Essex until Tony broke in.

"I just want to hit something," Tony admitted. "Makes no difference to me if it's a heavy bag or you. Of course, if you still want to block me I can just — I don't know. Start smashing everything I've made in that damn lab since I got here. I'm sure Bruce'll help. It's not like you're going to fire us." He gave Essex a tight, sarcastic grin. "Your call, Mr. Sinister."

Essex met his gaze with narrowed eyes before he took the slightest of steps to the side. "You two have fifteen minutes."

"Twenty anyhow. I have a lot of pent-up aggression," Tony said as they pushed by.

Bruce shook his head. "Probably even more, now. I'd say half an hour, easy."

"Good point," Tony nodded. "But don't worry, Essex. Girls are not anywhere on my mind right now."


	28. Itsy Bitsy Spider

**Notes: And here we are at the end of the districts section of the victory tour. And of course, we have to shake things up a bit before we get to the Capitol. That's just the way we roll, yo. :P**

* * *

 **Chapter 28: "Itsy Bitsy Spider"**

* * *

J _anuary 11_

 _District Two_

* * *

Coulson brought the discussion to Skye for once, and when he did sit down next to her, it was with a little smirk that he produced a cup of hot cocoa for her. "In exchange for not ogling anyone before the briefing."

"Not for lack of trying," she said, though she took the cocoa all the same with a smirk to match his.

"You know that's … that's just _never_ gonna happen, right?"

"There is nothing wrong with looking, Coulson. Absolutely nothing wrong with it," Skye said serenely over the top of her cocoa.

"Just making sure you know. We don't really get a chance to interact with them," he clarified. "So — what does it look like in Two? More psychos and cruel people?"

"Pretty much," Skye agreed. "There's one girl named Sarah that I'm pretty sure could eat all of last year's Careers for breakfast."

"You say that like that would be an achievement. They were, for the most part, less than stellar. Plenty of potential but ..."

"No kidding." Skye shook her head and made a little noise through her teeth before she had to add, "Though Thor wasn't bad to look at," just to watch Coulson's expression. He _had_ brought it up, after all.

He didn't bother to pretend he wasn't smirking at that one. "Even the women that didn't like the look of him wanted to know his hair care secrets."

Skye snorted into her cup and shook her head. "Yeah, well, the guys we've got aren't exactly going to win any beauty contests this year — not if we're going with the evil psychos anyway." She pushed the files his way. "Beck has some serious talent with manipulation and misdirection. I've got notes from his official trainers that he'd do well with camouflage as well. He seems tactical, which we might need to balance, you know, all the unstable psychos. And then there's this Lilith chick who, I kid you not, creeped me out from paragraph one of her file."

"Sounds promising," Coulson said with a smirk.

"No kidding." Skye leaned back and bit her lip as she looked over the last few names. "There's a few names if we _don't_ want psychos, though. Kid named Cassidy has a flair for adventure."

"Another Cassidy?" Coulson frowned.

"Spelled differently, and not a psycho," she explained.

"That's a relief. What's the story on this one?"

"He's bounced around different fighting groups, mostly just seems to be in it for the fun," she said. "Which might be good if this year's group is too… overly serious."

"That's actually a really good idea. We haven't had a real fighter with experience rather than training in the possibilities this year."

She nodded. "Yeah, I think I'd put him at the top of my list. Not everyone has to be a super serious killer or an Academy graduate, right?" She grinned Coulson's way as she slipped him the last file. "And here's the last name. Just… as a backup," she said quickly. "She's a gorgeous model, good family, she'll look really good on camera before one of our creepy ladies volunteers to kill people."

"That … that could be an interesting choice next to the red-headed fighter," Coulson said, picking up her file.

"We'll suggest they do ladies first just so they don't clash," Skye said, then made a face. "Oh my gosh, I've been spending too much time around the victors' stylist team."

"They usually run that anyhow," he said before he tossed it to the side. "And what are you doing with the stylists, outside of hoping to sneak another peek?"

"I can't help it that I'm a people person, Coulson. I really can't," she said with a shrug and an easy smile.

"Particularly when that people-person streak makes it easier to ogle half naked new victors?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She shrugged with her palms upturned and a clear look of innocence that he didn't buy for a second. "It's possible."

"And how effective has this strategy been working for you?" He crossed his arms with a little smirk on his face, entertained by her antics — not that he'd show it fully.

"Well, I can tell you the newest victor is more jacked than Peter Quill if that's what you're asking," she replied with a wide and wicked grin.

Coulson let out a little chuckle. "I think he's more jacked than most of them, to be honest. Just in a little shorter package."

"I'm telling you. James Proudstar. Future victor. Imagine it," Skye said with a little giggle, sweeping out her hands as if she was laying out a movie reel. "Seven is a beautiful place, Coulson."

"I thought we took him off the list?" Coulson teased. "You know. In part to keep the Career districts from feeling too threatened by a long string of Sevens."

"Well, we took him off the list because we didn't want to tick off the tribe, but that was just the _official_ reason," Skye said, laughing at the fact that she'd gotten her boss in on the jokes now.

"Just how much of your decision making process has been run past May and Simmons?" he asked with a little smile. "And don't try to act like you haven't."

"If you don't have at least five messages in your inbox when you get back to your seat about some of these picks, then those two have failed me utterly," she said with a laugh, and Coulson had to shake his head at her. The team certainly had gotten more interesting since she'd joined it.

* * *

Jubilee was getting more and more fussy as the tour came to a close, and Logan had finally gotten to the point that he just let her do what she felt like she needed to so he didn't have to listen to her trying to be threatening.

Not that it stopped her. "So help me, I will make you _shine_ if you just … stop being so stubborn for five minutes," Jubilee was muttering under her breath.

"You sound like an angry kitten," Logan replied, watching the goings on over her shoulder just to irritate her. "All fluff and hisses."

She stopped to glare at him and stick a finger in his face. "If that's your code for saying I'm adorable, then yes. Yes I am."

He raised an eyebrow her way before she immediately started to push on him to get him moving. Although the set list had been permanently changed by now, it was still a rush job if nothing else because those involved were already really tired of the routine and the last couple districts really didn't hold any interest for the team, since there was no connection. Not really.

When they got out onto the stage, the review was already running, and he narrowed his eyes a bit on seeing scenes from Natasha's pre-Games interviews. The fake bubbly smile, the whole perfect-for-television thing just had him rolling his eyes again.

He didn't miss the fact that there was no one for her little family platform, though, and that had him wondering just for a moment what the hell had the little widow acting the way she had been. But — as the tribute continued, he just frowned a bit deeper when he realized that their fight was the only one that she'd really, truly invested herself into. The rest of it played out like a bad horror movie. The romance — or near miss romance — with the archer was the only thing out of that mess that had him smirking to himself in a very self satisfied ' _ha! I knew it_ ' way.

But Clint's story… he couldn't help but feel bad for the guy when he saw how one-sided that little affair had been, even if he didn't _want_ to think about him as a sympathetic type. And even that bit of reluctance to give a damn was completely gone when he saw all the footage that he'd _missed_ of Clint taking care of Kate and watching out for her. Letting her use his bow freely as they hunted and travelled together.

He let out a sigh and turned to Clint's platform, where his near-doppleganger brother stood. The guy looked pissed more than anything else, but it was more indiscriminate anger, just mad at the Games, at Logan, at his brother for volunteering — just everything. It was a major juxtaposition of the two brothers — Clint laughing at Kate's jokes on the screen above his scowling big brother.

But there wasn't a damn thing he could say to the guy, though he knew he didn't have to anyhow. He'd been listening to the talk on the train and he knew his expressions made him an open book. That would be enough — unless by some miracle he got half a second with the guy like he'd gotten with T'Chaka.

When it was over, the three victors from Two joined the rest of the motley crew on the train, though when Logan turned their way, he did notice that Bobbi was looking toward Clint's platform with a little frown tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Sarkissian was quick to take advantage of Bobbi's distraction to swoop in and try and corner the newest victor for herself, though, snaking her arms around him and sidling up close while the cameras were still rolling. The stance was uncomfortable for him, and he stepped to the side, almost turning her way as she let one hand slide over to wrap around his arm instead, leaning in tightly to him as they started to walk. He kept as tolerant an expression as he could while she was all smiles and flash and the picture of solidarity on the way to the train.

Jubilee glared at the woman as soon as she had her back to the cameras, but the commentary was already running with the announcers at the way Viper had snuggled up with Logan.

The two SHIELD agents on the train saw both the glare and the way Logan tried to separate himself as soon as there was even a second without the cameras and at least had to share a relieved look at that.

He'd physically peeled her hands off of his arm and stepped back from her with an almost warning look and both hands out to ward her off before he walked away. But it was clear that Sarkissian was just taking it as a challenge.

"See, there's nothing wrong with looking, but that's escalated to _unwanted_ touching, and that is a no-no. Aren't there rules? I thought there were rules," Skye muttered to Coulson, clearly a bit agitated in defense of her current favorite eye candy.

"Between the victors? No. No rules," Coulson admitted. "And this is an ongoing problem with her."

"Yeah… I guess with the Storm family stuff… Still. That's just — I feel like I need to take a shower now." Skye gave an exaggerated shudder.

"Imagine how he feels," Coulson deadpanned.

"He _is_ going to take a shower now. I'm sure of it," she said, still shaking her head in disgust.

"Don't go looking for a way to stand guard now," Coulson said straight-faced before he just slipped off, leaving Skye staring after him in shock before she broke into a sort of disbelieving laugh and rushed to catch up to him.

* * *

There had been a slight change in the assignments for Two, away from the usual setup of a two-man team. This time, Jan would be joining Kurt and Peter, not just because Hill was wary of sending two members of Team Awesome at the same time to the district when Logan was getting more and more sober but because, with the problems they'd run into in Eight, Six, and now Three, they might just need the added backup.

"Be _careful_ ," Jan stressed to the two of them as they hit the dusty outskirts of Two. "Sarkissian is a piece of work, and Masters isn't far behind. Do _not_ get killed, okay?"

"Aww, don't worry Aunt Janet," Peter teased her. "We'll be fine, and we promise not to stay out too late and eat our vegetables and all that."

Jan gave him a _look_ that was clear even through the mask. "Just be careful, Spiderling."

"Spider-man!"

"Grow another foot and start shaving and we'll talk," she teased him with an obvious grin.

"I get it now. Seven kids are just _vicious_ ," Peter said. "So cruel."

"It's the long winters," she said, still laughing a bit to herself. "And you really shouldn't leave yourself open like that. I'm the _nice_ one from Seven."

Kurt just put an arm around Peter's shoulders and steered him toward the Victor's Village. "Come on, Spider-man. Let's get this done and wait for our elderly escort back at the jet."

"Good idea; she's just getting meaner in her old age. Maybe Hank is rubbing off on her."

Jan responded by lifting the bottom of her mask just enough so she could stick her tongue out at Peter — and then all but skip off away from them.

Kurt had to chuckle as he watched her go. "We'll have to get her back when we get back to base," he muttered under his breath to Peter with a little grin, and Peter nodded fervently, already thinking of possible methods of retribution on the way to the Victor's Village.

Tony Master's place was … kind of like one giant gym on the inside. All kinds of different weapons and dummies all over — almost like stations throughout the building. And though they'd been ready for trouble, they were pleasantly surprised to find that at least Masters didn't have the boobytrapped set-up like some of the other past victors did. It was just ... all the equipment made them wonder if he was going to jump out of a closet ready for battle or something.

"I can hear the battle music in my head," Peter whispered to Kurt as they finished up in that house. "You know, the stuff that plays in movies right before the bad guy jumps out?"

"You've been watching too many movies lately, Peter," Kurt said, shaking his head.

"Hey, they're there for the taking from the library. And _some_ of us don't have secret lady friends," Peter said with a shrug and a little laugh.

"Neither do I, officially."

"Right." Peter snorted and shook his head and patted his friend on the shoulder for a moment before they both climbed out of the window they'd come in.

But the real work was always going to be in the Viper's den — so both of them were almost holding their breaths looking for cameras or traps. They were surprised, then, when they slipped inside with no trouble, and the entryway and living room of the place was absolutely pristine. Very tastefully decorated, and honestly beautiful from every angle.

It wasn't until they very carefully opened the door to her self-styled office that the two boys had to stop and take pause. "What … what the heck is going on here?" Peter asked at a whisper. "It looks like some kind of I don't know … like…. This place is a nightmare."

Around the walls of the room was a low counter with vials and tubes of all kinds in racks, carefully labelled in a very neat, feminine handwriting. When Peter got closer to the counters, a loud hissing filled the room and startled him half out of his mind when he realized that there were dozens of clear boxes filled with hissing, angry snakes under the counter and behind a short curtain.

When he nearly bumped into Kurt, he started to relax until the rattling started up too, and Kurt swallowed hard before he pointed to the rest of the room. What walls weren't lined with scores and scores of snakes held all sorts of nasty creatures. Tanks with ominous-looking fish, dry tanks with spiders and scorpions, and just off of the scary little office was a greenhouse filled with all kinds of interesting and certainly dangerous plant life … this woman clearly had problems.

"Someone is taking their Games name _way_ too seriously," Peter said with a gulp.

"Unless she was like this before," Kurt pointed out. "That could be how she _got_ the name."

"Then someone should tell the Capitol to stop enabling her, because this is freaking me out," Peter said in a bit of a quavering voice as he looked around for someplace… relatively safe to put a camera, since _clearly_ this was a woman that needed to be monitored for evil doings.

He was just about to move a rather scary-looking sword out of his way when a voice echoed in his ear. "Try not to touch _anything_ in Viper's place," Hill said. "Newest intel says she may have different kinds of booby traps than we're used to dealing with."

"Ooo-kay," Peter said, pulling back from the sword. "That — really… really doesn't make me feel any better," he added, now looking at the sharpened edges of the sword with a whole new apprehension before he finally settled on a spot on the wall by the plant life, which at least didn't _hiss_ at him when he got close. Or strike at the glass.

"Are we sure these things can't get out?" Peter asked with a nervous glance at the snake who seemed to be trying to bite through its container.

"No, so let's just do this quickly," Kurt said with a nervous tone of his own.

Peter swallowed convulsively at the repetitive thunks behind him as he rushed through setting up the camera and then scrambled over to where Kurt was, eyes wide behind his mask. "Go, go," he urged, though Kurt clearly didn't need the push, as he was ready to get _out_ of that room as well.

Neither of the boys was too excited about the prospect of looking through the rest of the house, and they were both on high alert by that point, the mood of that room of poisons still clinging to them as they checked the last few rooms. There were no more 'offices' with live specimens, but the poisons and blades were a running theme, it seemed, which didn't exactly help their nerves.

They were just expecting something bad to happen, and Peter in particular paused outside of the last door as a sense of dread washed over him. He glanced over at Kurt before he moved to turn the door handle — and very immediately knew something had gone horribly wrong as he felt two pricks at the base of his wrist just under the handle itself.

He drew back his hand quickly even as his vision was already starting to swim, wincing and shaking out his hand and really, _really_ hoping he hadn't found an escaped _something_ from that room of poisons.

"What happened?" Kurt asked at seeing Peter's quick retreat.

"Something ... something bit me," Peter said, blinking hard as he started to go a bit sideways. "Or pricked. Or… something," he added, the tone of panic clear even as he was struggling to stay upright.

"Keep calm," Kurt said as he put his arm under Peter's shoulder to help get him out.

"Oh yeah. Calm. That's what I am," Peter mumbled. "Freaky poison lady's house bites me and _calm_ is the right reaction."

"Pete, you need to stay calm to slow it," Kurt pointed out.

"Slow _what_?" Peter asked, clearly _not_ very calm.

"Whatever it is that has you sweating already," Kurt said. "Your wrist is turning colors."

"Yes, thank you Hawkeye. Also — everything else is turning colors. Is that just me? It might just be me," Peter half mumbled out.

"Piggy back ride while you can still hang on," Kurt decided as he pulled Peter's arms over his shoulders. "We're leaving now." Kurt tried to adjust Peter's weight as he picked him up and Peter seemed to drift further out of reality, not bothering with the radio until the two of them were well on their way out. "Spider-Man got bitten by an escaped … something," he said over his comm. "I need medical _now._ "

"On our way to you," was the quick reply from Simmons, one of Coulson's _other_ team members. "We're here in Two for the tour anyway — I'll be there in a matter of minutes."

"We have some supplies in the jet," Jan said over the comms, clearly sounding concerned. "I'll prep for you — I've done it for Hank enough times I know where it is."

"Do you have any idea what it was that bit him?" Simmons asked, sounding as if she was rifling through something for the right meds.

"No, I didn't see it, and neither did he," Kurt admitted. "But it was small enough to be hidden under a doorknob."

"I have several antivenins along," she said. "Tell me about the wound …"

The quick question and answer session went on all the way up until Simmons appeared at the plane, where Kurt had lain Peter down. The only difference was that she had simply turned off her comm once she was in sight of the two boys, and she didn't give Kurt a second glance as she got to work.

It wasn't until she was administering the shot of antivenin that she started to give Kurt a bit of attention. "Do you think it was something that was escaped or something she just let wander the house?"

"I wouldn't be surprised by either, really," Kurt admitted. "She had an entire room full of venomous creatures, and I'm not sure it was built to keep them all in."

"I've heard the rumors," Simmons said, almost bright-eyed. "They say she has the largest collection of venomous creatures in the country."

"I believe it," Kurt said, not nearly matching her interested tone as he frowned after his friend, who was still sweaty and pale.

"I'm just taking a guess, mind you," she said, turning Peter's way with a small sigh. "This antivenin should ease the damage — and hopefully wake him up. If not … well. He'll have a hard time ahead of him, but we'll do _everything_ we can to get him back to full speed." She gave Kurt a tiny, bright smile, but for some reason, Kurt didn't entirely buy it.

"And if you've guessed wrong?" he pressed her, not liking the idea of not knowing. He wasn't keen on secrets.

"Well," she said, the smile falling considerably. "If I guessed _wrong,_ then best case scenario, the antivenin won't have any further effects. Worst case … it could accelerate the decline or cause an allergic reaction." She dug in her bag, wide-eyed, and pulled out a couple of pretty scary-looking devices, which she pressed into Kurt's hands. "These are auto injectors. If he seems to be having trouble breathing, just jam it into his thigh and press the button. You'll know soon enough if it's a problem, but I'm afraid I have to get back to the train before they start looking for me. They were nearly done when I got your call."

"Alright," Kurt said, a bit shakily as he looked down at the auto injectors in his hand.

"Don't worry. Two is close to the Capitol. I'll have him back to the Tahiti docs in no time," Jan promised quickly. "I'm a fast pilot."

"Good," Simmons said. "I'm leaving the vial of antivenin so Celia knows what he's gotten. Good luck."

"Thank you," Kurt called after her before he sat down next to his friend, watching with a deep frown while Jan waited until Simmons was clear before she punched it to get them back to base as fast as possible.

Kurt was only falling into deeper concern for Peter as the flight went on, though, because Peter had yet to wake up by the time they got to the Tahiti wing — though he hadn't stopped breathing, so at least Kurt didn't have to use the worrisome devices in his hands. Both Celia and Claire met them in the hangar on their arrival.

Kurt didn't get to follow Peter through to medical — because Hill pulled him aside to ask him what had happened, with Essex beside her looking far too interested when Kurt described the room of poisons and venoms he and Peter had found even as the pale doctor worked on Kurt's friends.

As Celia re-did the lines for Peter, Essex was half listening to Peter's heart and half watching Kurt tell the story — and actually looking the part of a concerned physician. He didn't question Kurt, instead just working on the young man without commentary while Celia tried to ask what she could to help make sure the treatments would be right.

"IV support for now," Essex finally said. "Careful monitoring, anti-inflammatories and painkillers would be my recommendation. Anything you'd like to add, doctor?" He was already measuring out a healthy dose of morphine as he looked to Cecilia to see if she was going to argue with him. But when Celia just shook her head, Essex turned his attention to Kurt. "Check yourself over carefully to make sure you didn't get nicked or bitten by anything. I'd advise you to take a thorough shower as well. It's my understanding that Miss Sarkissian is trying to develop a new transdermal poison."

Kurt blinked in surprise for a moment before he just had to nod. "Got it," he said, still with half an eye on Peter before he finally found his feet again to head to the showers nearby. He didn't want to end up in a bed next to Peter, after all — though he was still half in shock on seeing Essex with that level of actual _concern_ for him or for Peter. At least now he knew why SHIELD even had the creepy pale man on staff. He'd never seen the man do any, well, doctoring — even if Coulson insisted that he was one of the brilliant minds behind the Tahiti process.

When Kurt made his way out of the showers, he wasn't entirely surprised to run into Essex, who took a moment on the spot to check him over — eyes and pulse, that sort of thing — before he advised him to get some food and rest before the final push for the Capitol.

"Is Peter alright?" he couldn't help but ask.

"He's showing no signs of further decline," Essex replied. "But no improvements yet either. It's still early, and he is now sedated at any rate to try and speed the healing process."

"I'd like to stay with him while I'm here," Kurt said with a frown.

Essex stopped and looked up at him with a bit of a frown to match. "It won't do him any good."

"I just don't want him to be alone," Kurt explained.

Essex let out a bit of a sigh. "Feed yourself first."

Kurt paused and looked over the doctor in front of him before he just had to nod his agreement and muttered a quick, "Thank you," before he went off in the direction of the cafeteria.

* * *

 _District One_

* * *

Clint and Steve were already en route to One for the next day's mission when the tour hit Clint's home district, so he didn't get to see the original broadcast — and then he and Steve had been distracted with the call coming in over the radio that Peter had been hurt, so they hadn't exactly thought about watching some dumb tour until they heard that Peter had made it back to the base in one piece and that he was with the docs now.

There was really nothing else they could do, though, so finally, as they were settling in for the night before the morning's mission, Steve flipped on the screen in the jet. "Aren't you interested?" he asked when Clint didn't immediately come to join him.

"In what? Watching my own death again? Or the part where I totally embarrassed myself on national television over a girl who didn't care if I lived or died?" Clint made a face. "I'm good, thanks."

Steve frowned at that but leaned back in his seat to watch the broadcast all the same. "Don't you at least want to see your brother?" he asked when they showed the family podiums.

That had Clint's head popping up as he half scrambled over to where Steve was. " _Barney_?" he half gasped, eyes wide and shaking his head.

"He looks just like—"

"No, no. See. You don't understand, Cap," Clint said, shaking his head as he glared at the screen for a second. "That…" He shook his head. "I don't see the guy for _years_ once he turns eighteen, and _now_ he shows up? Where did they even _find_ him? _How_ did they find him?"

Steve watched Clint's expression for a moment with a frown. "He looks genuinely upset."

"Yeah, _now_." Clint just shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Typical, Barn. Way late to the game, but thanks for showing up, I guess."

"Well, at least Logan is sober for this one," Steve said, trying to redirect Clint's attention, though Clint just saw the expression on Logan's face as the new victor looked to Barney Barton and reached over to click off the screen.

"Yeah, I'm good. I don't need to see that," he said, reaching up to a cabinet above Steve's head to pull out some blankets so they could get some sleep before the early morning mission. "I don't need sympathy, and I definitely don't need whatever the heck Barney's trying to pull."

"I think he—"

"Good night, Cap," Clint said with a severe tone of finality before he just wrapped himself in the corner and proceeded to ignore all attempts at communication in favor of pretending to drift off.

* * *

 _January 12_

 _District One_

* * *

Skye was relieved that this was finally, at long, long last, the final briefing on tribute options that she had to report on for a while. And though she knew that there would likely be another meeting somewhere to double-finalize everything, and another to triple-check... she was in high spirits as she headed off to finish up.

She had the files and her laptop in her arms and her gaze on the ground as she stepped out of the little room she'd been using to meet up with Coulson when the entire train lurched. She very nearly face-planted — except someone had caught her and was holding her and her files up.

"Easy, darlin'," Logan muttered as he tried to set her back upright. "Might want to slow down."

"Uh-huh," she managed to get out as she quickly realized just who it was that had saved her from an embarrassing fall — and just whose biceps she was hanging onto to get upright too.

"You alright?" he asked, dipping his head down a bit to try to catch her attention, which was not helping her to keep the blush at bay.

"Oh, yeah, fine," she said as she tried to compose herself and started to re-gather her files from him. "I'm just… embarrassed. Sorry."

"Don't be," he said leaning toward her a bit before he dropped his voice to a much quieter level. "The guy down the way just dumped coffee on himself. You're fine."

"Please tell me it was Masters or Schmidtt or somebody, because that would make my day," she whispered back, finally getting her feet back under her — metaphorically and literally.

He gave her a little smirk and tipped his chin up to let her know where the guy was — though, when she saw that it was Ward, scowling and wincing as he tried to towel himself off, she just had to snort.

"Oh my gosh, he knows five hundred ways to kill a person but he can't handle coffee. I'm going to have to tease him now," Skye said with a little laugh.

"I'm sure there are plenty of other deficits to pick from," he said with what she swore was a little wink before he let her go and stepped back a bit.

"Right. Well — thanks. For the save," she said as she rearranged the laptop and files in her hands one last time. "Um — I'll see you around. Possibly."

He just tipped his head at her and then headed off in the opposite direction she was going.

When Skye got to the meeting with Coulson, she wasn't nearly as flustered or red as before — until she saw the smirk her boss was giving her. "Oh, shut up," she grumbled good-naturedly.

"I didn't say a word," he replied with the now ever-present smirk. "Did anything interesting happen that I might have missed?"

" _No_ ," she said as she put down her files and laptop. "Nothing at all. Clearly."

"Was it hard getting here? Seems like Ward had a little trouble in the next car over."

She just gave him a _look_ for a second. "I might have gotten a little … help."

"Just help?" It was clear he was just barely keeping from chuckling at her now.

"Yes. Help with not faceplanting. Shut up, Coulson," she said, turning a bit pink now as she started _very_ pointedly opening files with much more force than was necessary to push them his way.

"Just starting to worry that I might need a new operative."

"I didn't _do_ anything," she insisted. " _He_ caught _me_. It's not _my_ fault the train lurched, okay?"

"I didn't say you did anything," he said with a real smile now.

"Shut _up_ ," she said more insistently. "Just... don't do that. Just stop."

"Was he more or less sober than last time?"

"More," she admitted. "And he was a perfect gentleman and his arms are _huge_ and I totally didn't feel him up on purpose but oh my gosh, the _blue eyes_ and — okay so maybe I held on a little too long but I _didn't start it_ ," she said in a rush.

"Noted," he said with a little laugh. "Whenever you're composed … tell me what you have. "

Skye shot him another look but bit back her comment that she _had_ been composed before he started teasing her in favor of just getting the meeting over with. "Lots more for your evil viewing pleasure," she said. "Megalomaniacs and manipulators. One kid who's practically a prince — the Von Doom family owns like half the district at least." She tapped the file in question. "He's got an ego the size of District Eleven."

"That sounds like a pretty big endorsement for trouble," Coulson said.

"Well, that's what we want, isn't it?" she asked with a grin. "But the other two are pretty evil too. I mean — Killgrave's name alone is going to get people talking, and he _so_ lives up to it. Academy kid — he talked his first kill into suicide without ever raising a weapon to get noticed by the trainers." She shuddered a bit. "And Shaw is just… not even fair. He's huge and strong _and_ a master at manipulation."

"Sounds like both of them are prime picks. But — the one that manipulates. That one sounds like our guy."

"I think so too. He'd up the creep factor significantly, and we want our Careers to strike terror into their hearts. So… I'll put him at the top of the list. One of the other two as backup, though. It's a good list. Well, an evil list. But a good one."

"And the ladies of District One?"

"Right." She leaned forward. "So, I already have an idea for the drawing pick, since One's almost always got a volunteer from the Academy or someplace. Sweet little redhead type, but if no one steps up, she is _scary_ good at talking people into things. Which would be good for keeping up with our guy. Her name's Pryor." She tapped the picture. "She and Braddock from Two will be the camera bait before we drop all that evil on the Games."

"Perfect — we like to have a little bit of pretty in there before all the evil comes out."

"That's what I thought," Skye said, nodding her agreement. "And then we've got the evil." She pushed the other two files forward. "Morgan le Fay and this girl who just goes by Black Lotus at the Academy. No real record before she was accepted there, except that she's a wicked fighter."

"It's always a good entertainment factor when it's one of the girls that's top on hand to hand."

"You say that like you don't work with the Cavalry," Skye said with a smirk.

"I _know_ how substantial women can be as fighters if they want to," Coulson defended. "It's not my fault that the larger part of Marvel still isn't with it."

Skye just smirked even wider at that. "Nice save, AC," she teased before she just tapped the last picture. "Right, so, there's the fighter, and then there's Morgan, who could probably give Killgrave a run for his money if she gets her hands on any poisons. She likes to play with hallucinogens to get people softened up enough to do what she wants."

"Considering where the arena is, that is a distinct possibility," Coulson said thoughtfully.

"Then we'll nudge the Academy her way. Black Lotus is still young enough we can use her next year," Skye offered.

"Sounds good to me," Coulson replied finally as he looked over the rest of Morgan's file. "I'll take those, and … let me know if your assessment changes once we get to One." He gave Skye a little smirk. "I'll bet if you hurry, you can still catch your free show."

"You are not funny, Coulson," Skye said, shaking her head — even as she gathered up her laptop and rushed out to do just that.

* * *

The only good thing Logan could think of to say about District One was that it simply meant that this stupid part of the dog and pony show was finally just about over. The crowds were huge. The stage was bright as hell, and he just didn't like the whole feel about the place. He'd seen most of the district on the train ride in, and it was barren — _except_ for the single, glittering city where the richest gathered to show off for their Capitol benefactors. The juxtaposition alone had him frowning, and then all the pomp and circumstance over the Games themselves had him downright grumbly.

It was another district with no families on the pedestals, and it had him wondering if these creeps were picking people with no families on purpose. He knew the process wasn't random as they liked to say it was. There was no way in hell two of Odin's kids could have been pulled in one year. No way. And the little implosion in Nine with Lensherr — he didn't like the guy, but that was a set-up from the word go.

He just couldn't figure out why the hell they'd picked people like Kurt and Kate, sweet kids with families that cared about them. Peter too for that matter, with his aunt... It just had him in a foul mood thinking about it, so he didn't hear it when the jackass at the microphone quit talking and the replay started — until he heard Kate's voice, and he looked up in time to see his little Trickshot pulling one over on the psycho girl from One.

He didn't bother trying to keep his reaction in check. He didn't care that anyone could see that it was clearly the first that he'd seen of it, and although for the most part, he was almost proud of her — taking down a Career like that — he couldn't help but feel as if he'd somehow failed her by not doing it for her.

His gaze fell, and again, the nagging depression started to rear its head his way — just another failure on his part. He'd stopped Creed from getting a hold of her, but not before she'd gotten blood on her hands.

It was unlikely that the group that had surrounded him on the train had any idea what had been the trigger of this particular bout of self-blame, though, as they just seemed to share looks with each other as he passed them by on the way out.

Of course, all it really did was feed the narrative that Tivan had sparked up — not that he cared in the least.

* * *

"Come on, princess, up and at 'em. Time to screw with some Sentinels and hot shots in One," Clint declared as he half ripped the blanket off of Steve when morning hit. He only stuck around to make sure Steve was really awake before he grabbed them both thermoses of coffee and shoved one into his partner's hands.

It didn't take them long to get up and ready to go, both of them clearly excited to be _done_ with this two-week run of missions — at least the part in the districts. The Capitol assignments were honestly more exciting, and Clint found himself actually looking forward to some of them. A few assassinations were due his way, and they were tricky. Challenging. Not like the surveillance routine they had been doing this whole time.

"C'mon, Spangles," he said as soon as Steve had finished his coffee, half pulling him along toward the opened hatch of the plane to get a move on.

It was going to be simple, straightforward. The so-called Fantastic Four were all on their sides, so all the boys had to do was get into the Sentinels' HQ and the mayor's place. Easy, right?

But that quickly got derailed when they reached the outskirts of One and Clint spotted a dark-clad figure also hovering in the shadows like they were.

"Hey, Cap? We're the only ones assigned here, right? Didn't get a babysitter like the awesomes did?" Clint muttered out of the corner of his mouth to his partner, his gaze on the dark figure. There was something familiar about her — and it _was_ a 'her'; he could tell by the way she moved — but it was hard to place when she was just as well-concealed by her gear as he and Steve were.

"As far as I know," Steve muttered back to him, and that settled it for Clint as he held up a hand to tell Steve to stay put while he went to investigate this new player.

He was halfway to her when her head came up, and Clint knew she'd spotted him because she reached for a comm first and then a gun, so he abandoned his attempt to sneak up on her and made a rush for her, with Steve not far behind when he had clearly realized that this was _not_ going down like one of the other district missions.

Clint could hear Steve calling it in — "We have an unknown player here; Ronin is engaging" — at the same time the girl finished up her message in a low tone. She wasn't as loud and clear as Steve was, but for just a second, Clint froze when he heard the voice. He _recognized_ it.

"Nat?" he asked hesitantly, but that hesitation was all she needed.

He heard the quick report of her gun as she shot him — a tight grouping in the center of his chest and two in the stomach.

The black uniforms that all of the Tahiti kids wore came equipped with body armor, so it wasn't immediately fatal, but all the same, being shot five times, even with body armor, was no picnic, and Clint went down hard, gasping. One of the rounds had managed to pierce through — thus why she'd used a tight grouping — and the only thought pounding in Clint's head that _wasn't_ about the fact that he was hurt and bleeding and his chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it was that she hadn't gone for a kill shot. Even the chest grouping was off-center from his heart.

Of course, his second thought was a little less optimistic as he realized he couldn't honestly say whether that meant Natasha wanted him alive… or if whoever was pulling her strings wanted him alive.

He heard the sound of gunshots over his head and the clang of metal as Natasha hit Steve's shield instead of Steve, and he realized that Steve was crouched down beside him, covering Clint's body with his shield as he tried to assess his partner, though to his concern, it was hard to focus enough to keep track of the fight. He felt funny — and the initial sharp pain of the shot hadn't lessened in the least. In fact, it felt like it was getting _worse_.

"I need backup. The unknown shot Ronin — repeat, Ronin is down."

"But not out," Clint muttered through his teeth almost automatically, which got Steve to look his way for a second and shake his head, clearly in disbelief that Clint could be making witty rejoinders at a time like this.

Hill response came crisp and clear over the radio. She was clearly annoyed with just how much of what was supposed to be a big push for the reinforced Tahiti program had gone downhill as she asked, "How bad is it?"

"I don't know yet. I need to get us somewhere safe before I can assess the damage," Steve admitted. The sound of gunshots ricocheting off of Steve's shield died off, and Clint tried to move to see if that meant Nat had scampered — or if she was just looking to get a better angle on them — but Steve held him down with a muttered, "Don't move," that Clint almost didn't catch because for some reason, Steve's hands felt like they weighed a ton, and the touch felt like being hit by a boxing champion.

"Nat," Clint tried to say through his teeth, trying to get out _something_ to let his partner know what was up even as he was biting back the urge to scream, but that just seemed to jump Steve into concern. Guy probably thought he was half out of it. _Great._

"Don't worry; I got you," Steve promised as he glanced around the area and carefully scooped Clint up despite Clint's protests — not just because he didn't want to be carried around but because it _hurt_.

It wasn't just his chest, either, though that certainly hurt. Whatever Nat had shot him with, it clearly wasn't normal, because it felt like it was spreading. His shoulders ached. His stomach was on fire. His muscles felt like they were being torn apart. And where Steve touched him felt like hot needles — not that it got any better when Steve set him down again when they got to the jet. Any contact on his skin had him all but holding his breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Steve was just getting more and more concerned the more this went on as he gingerly peeled off Clint's mask and then his shirt and body armor, wincing when he saw not only the bullet wound but the fact that the area around it looked almost blue — which could _not_ be a good sign.

Steve turned to his radio once more to call it in: "Single gunshot wound to the chest. Non-lethal, but it looks like the bullet was laced with something. The wound is discolored, and he's hurting beyond just the bruising and the bullet."

"Get him back to base Now," Hill all but barked over the radio, and Steve didn't argue at all. He just got Clint strapped in, wincing in sympathy when Clint all but whimpered at the contact of the straps before he climbed into the cockpit and frowned at the controls. He'd been in training a couple times with Carol and Rhodey, but…

Well, here went nothing.

Both of the boys were lucky that One was the closest district to the Capitol, because that meant a mercifully short flight for both of them. Steve clumsily set the jet down in the hangar, and it wasn't elegant at all and had probably ruined some of the equipment. He didn't exactly care, because Clint was now openly whimpering, his jaw tightly clenched to keep from letting anything else out.

Claire and Essex both met Steve at the hangar, hardly speaking a word to Steve and just tossing their diagnoses back and forth at each other as they worked in tandem to get the injured Hawkeye off the jet. "No exit wound — we're going to have to get it out of him," Claire told Essex, who just nodded as he wordlessly checked Clint over for any other injuries or symptoms, blatantly ignoring the young man when he pulled away from him — since Clint wasn't with it enough to really fight him off.

Steve hadn't taken more than a few steps through the hangar before Hill cornered him with no small amount of fury in her gaze. "What happened? How was your cover blown?" she all but hissed at him.

"I don't know," he told her. "Clint was the one to spot this new player, and he went after the guy. I didn't get close enough to get a good look at him until he was shooting at us, and then I had other priorities, honestly."

She looked frustrated for a moment before she sighed out all her breath. "Go get yourself checked out just to be sure. We're not even to the Capitol yet and I'm already down two operatives."

Steve nodded with a frown to match hers. "We didn't even make it into the district itself," he told her. "Whoever this was, they were close to where our jet set down, too."

Hill turned his way for a moment with both eyebrows raised before she spun on her heel, and as she walked out of the hangar, he could hear her barking into her radio to Coulson that he had better _triple-check_ his communications, because it looked like they had a leak.

Steve frowned after her for a moment before he made his way to the med bay to check in on Clint, who was still half fighting Essex every time the man got close to him, even though Claire was trying to calm him down and reassure him that "despite his bedside manner, he knows what he's doing."

"Can't you give him something?" Steve asked, glancing at Peter, who was sedated in the room across the hall — still pale and sweaty but at least unconscious for the worst of it.

"Not until we know what we know what was in whatever they gave him," Claire explained as she moved to hold Clint's arms down so Essex could get a blood sample, and when Clint made a hissing noise at the contact and then _screamed_ at the pinprick of the needle as if he was being stabbed, she tried to shush him a bit. "I know, I know."

Steve just watched the whole thing with a frown as he felt powerless to help his friend, who was clearly hurting.

Essex went through a quick workup of Clint's blood while Claire was clearly making preparations for surgery to get the bullet out once they knew what they were dealing with, so when Essex looked their way with a bit of a frown, both of them knew it wasn't good.

"I don't recognize the compound," Essex admitted. "It seems to be a combination of venoms. The best I can tell you is that it doesn't seem to be lethal, but it is targeted for pain, as you can see," he said, gesturing at Clint.

"What does that mean?" Steve asked.

"It means your friend is in for a rough night," Claire told him gently, and Steve knew the second she took his arm to get him out of the room while Essex was prepping Clint that it was going to be ugly. "Why don't you have Celia look you over?" she asked gently.

Steve just frowned at that. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked outright.

Claire gave him a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine. But these next few hours are going to be very painful."

"I want to stick with him."

"You're supposed to be in the Capitol right now. But if it makes you feel any better, I'll make sure when he comes out of it, any of the kids on base that aren't in the Capitol will be there — for him _and_ Peter."

Steve frowned for a second before he finally had to let out all his breath and let Claire take him one room over to where Celia was waiting. There was nothing he could do — at least for now.


	29. Swimming With Sharks

**Notes: Well, we've made it to the Capitol. This… is when things get bad for our little victor. The only promise we can make is that there WILL be a revolution. Eventually.**

* * *

 **Chapter** _ **29 :**_ " **Swimming with Sharks"**

* * *

 _January 13_

 _Phil Coulson's Capitol Office_

* * *

It was always the case that Coulson was busier when the tour finally hit the Capitol than when it was in the districts and his only job was to look out for the future picks, but this time, it was busy for a whole new reason.

The business in One had only solidified what had been a growing suspicion for a while now — that they had a leak. It was one thing that the victors they were watching out for had booby traps. After all, they were paranoid; even the victors on SHIELD's good side hadn't stopped training themselves. And some of them without even being prompted. But the fact that the booby traps had been in _all_ of their high-value target homes, not to mention the fact that, aside from Viper's place, they were all non-lethal traps?

Something was going on here, and it was troublesome that he hadn't already found the link.

It wasn't just limited to the missions to the districts, either. This — this felt eerily similar to the mission he'd sent Kate, Kurt, and Steve on in Four that had ended up putting the two members of the awesome alliance in the med wing until the darts wore off.

He'd thought that he plugged up that leak when he took Raina in, but now it was clear that it had run deeper than just Raina. The question was — who else knew about these missions?

They'd kept the schedule, the roster, and just about everything it was possible to keep under wraps, as closely guarded as possible. Even the kids hadn't been allowed to go anywhere once their schedules were posted so that there was no risk of information getting out that way — as if they had anyone to tell.

And still he had two operatives down, both poisoned, not to mention the traps in Eight and the cameras in Three and Six. At least with Peter Parker, there was the possibility it was accidental, considering the room of horrors he and Kurt had found. But with Barton, there had been an operative in the field that none of them could account for.

What was more frustrating was that this person shouldn't have been able to get past their net. With everyone in the district required to attend the victory tour, the district residents were all accounted for. And the SHIELD personnel were accounted for — as well as the victors and everyone else who had been on the train.

This person, whoever he or she was, should _not_ have been in One. It just shouldn't have been possible.

He would have to wait and see how things went in the Capitol before he called this whole thing a disaster, but that _was_ the word he wanted to use. Sure, he had managed to get cameras in the mayoral offices and Sentinel headquarters of every single district but One, but their focus had honestly been on the victors who refused to pick a side — or who were actively pitting themselves against Fury. Sure, they were all on the same side — against the Capitol — but they all knew it was dangerous to stage a revolution with a fractured coalition and no backup plan in place for when that shaky alliance inevitably crumbled.

It was, after all, half the reason they had yet to launch their revolution. They simply couldn't risk it if it meant putting the likes of Sarkissian or Schmitt in power — and it was obvious those two and their ilk had their eyes on the throne.

So this whole operation had been a way to get to the victors — and that was a bust almost entirely. They had a few, like Masters and Octavius, but Coulson had to wonder just how long those cameras would stay in place once the victors got talking with each other.

And what was more concerning was the traps themselves — all non-lethal, except Sarkissian, though _again_ , he wasn't sure if that was a trap or an accident; it was impossible to know with that woman. As Fury had pointed out when he first proposed the mission to Four, somebody out there wanted the kids alive, probably to see what made them so special to SHIELD — or possibly to try and co-opt them for themselves.

Either way, Coulson didn't like it. He didn't get to spend much time with the kids outside of briefings because of his obligations to SHIELD in the Capitol, but he did know that he didn't like the idea of anyone getting their hands on his kids. Not a one of them was older than twenty-two — and that was Hank and Janet — and all of them had already been asked to give so much for the cause. They had literally given their lives for it, though that part hadn't exactly been _asked_ of them. And Coulson couldn't help but feel at least partially responsible for that _and_ for the trauma that had initially placed those kids into his care.

So he wasn't about to let someone else get their hands on these kids and try to twist them for their own advantage.

He looked up when there was a knock at his door and put aside the mission reports he was sifting through from the various runs in the district, though when he saw that it was Agent May, he just nodded her way and went right back to what he had been doing.

"You've been here since the train left One," she observed as she leaned over his reports to search through them with him, and he just handed her a stack of information so they could split it — he appreciated the extra eyes.

"Nobody needs me until the parties start," Coulson said with a wave. "And I'd rather find this leak and patch it up before I actually _lose_ an operative."

May just nodded thoughtfully and lapsed into silence, just leaving him to his thoughts. He was glad it wasn't Skye or Fitzsimmons, who definitely wouldn't have kept their thoughts to themselves if they'd stopped by.

Finally, he had to push back from his desk; the words on the pages were starting to swim together from how much staring and hoping the pattern would emerge he had been doing, and he looked May's way to see that she was watching him with just one eyebrow raised.

"When we took Raina in for questioning, she mentioned that the people she was passing information to were interested in the Tahiti program specifically because they didn't know what it _was_ ," Coulson said. "But these are much more targeted, mission-specific. What I want to know is just how much more they've learned since they tried to take Wagner and Bishop."

May let out a bit of a sigh. "You're not going to find that out staring at files, Phil."

"No, but I don't have the leeway to start questioning everyone who knew _anything_ until tonight after the first party," Coulson admitted. "And I hate having to wait."

"I can start looking while you're busy," May offered with the beginnings of a smirk. "No one expects me to go to those ridiculous parties, anyway."

"Most of the people on the list will _be_ at the parties — that's my main problem," Coulson admitted.

"Then I'll take everyone who's not there, and tonight, we'll get the rest," she said, leaning forward a bit. "In the meantime, you can't stay in here much longer. You're the ranking SHIELD agent here, and people are starting to wonder if something's gone wrong."

Coulson rubbed his temples at that. "I really hate the rumor mill in this place."

"You and me both," she said with a little smirk before she just stood up and waited for him to do the same. "Come on; I'm sure you can at least put in an appearance and tell Skye to stop ogling the victors."

Coulson had to smirk right back at her for that one as he put his files away, under lock and key, and followed her out, honestly dreading the party-going he'd have to do for the next three days.

* * *

 _District Seven Suite_

* * *

The tour had been positively wearing, yet on arrival in the Capitol, for reasons no one quite understood, Victor Creed simply cleared out, leaving Logan, Moira, and Jubilee in peace for a change. And after nearly two weeks of putting up with him, all three of them were glad for the break.

Logan and Jubilee were more or less camped out on the couch, half asleep from the travelling as the television prattled on about all the goings on that were set to happen that night. There really wasn't much for Jubilee to do _to_ Logan, since she'd had full access to irritate him the entire time, so it was really just a matter of getting dressed and heading to the soiree.

That's why they were just attempting to relax, trying to catch up on a little bit of rest when there was a knock on the door, followed by the person behind it simply letting himself in.

"Oh, I thought you would be working. I'm sorry," said the blue-skinned stylist who walked in the door, already turning to leave.

"No, wait! Get in here," Jubilee said, popping up to rush over and pull him inside. "All the work is done except to get dressed, and we have plenty of time. Come on. I want you to officially meet Logan."

The man allowed Jubilee to pull him into the room and over to Logan before he extended his hand to the new victor. "Noh-Varr," he said by way of introduction. "Stylist for Twelve, and a friend of Jubilee's since before she started to work the Games."

"Friend?" Logan said with his brows drawn together as he took Noh's hand. "That's not how she tells it."

Noh looked over at Jubilee with a look somewhere between pleased and scandalized. "Have you been telling stories about me?"

"Just the truth," Jubilee replied, grinning and clearly tickled that the two of them were at least partway putting an effort forward.

"Ah, well, in the Capitol, that _is_ the story," he teased her lightly.

"It's not the one they're telling _yet_ ," Jubilee corrected. "But I'm not lying to him — and neither should you."

He nodded at that and then tipped his head to the side to look Logan's way. "Alright, allow me to try again. My name is Noh-Varr, and I intend to date your stylist for as long as she will allow me to," he said, this time with a wider smile than before. "Though I hope you can keep that secret for the time being so neither of us loses our jobs."

"Sure," Logan replied with a little smirk. "But just so you know, you break her heart, and I'll break your neck."

For just a moment, Noh looked almost shocked, and then he settled into a huge grin. "I have no intentions to break anything, I assure you. Like I said, I've known Jubilee for some time now — I don't want to see her hurt anymore than, apparently, you do."

"Good," Logan said before he gave Noh a troublemaking little smile. "How'd your hand heal up?"

Noh turned to Jubilee with an _actually_ scandalized look this time. "You _can't_ tell stories of my most embarrassing moments! I am _still_ trying to live down the blow to my reputation that was my arrest!"

"Live it down nothing," Jubilee said. "Logan said he'd teach you how to throw a punch if you're going to do that kind of thing." Logan just nodded next to her with his arms crossed.

"Well, I don't usually hit anyone, but Victor Creed is simply infuriating," Noh said a little sheepishly. "It really did catch me by surprise."

"His head's a lot harder than it looks," Logan agreed.

Noh laughed at that. "Yes. It really is," he had to agree.

"Alright, well if you two need a few, I'll just leave you be," Logan said as he simply headed to his room. "It's been a while since you've gotten to see each other."

Noh watched Logan head off with a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he turned Jubilee's way. "I think I like him much more in person," he told her. "It's good to see you have a decent victor on your hands."

"Of course you like him, and of course I have a good one. I told you that before," she said with a little frown before she popped up on her toes to steal a kiss.

"How was the tour, Jubilee?" he asked as he took the opportunity to pull her arms around his waist and wrap her into a hug.

"A rollercoaster," she admitted.

"It didn't seem too much like one here, but then, they don't often show the most important things."

"He was entirely shut down for half of it or better," Jubilee said. "Kate's sister … and Kurt's family … but Peter's aunt just … totally wiped him out."

"Yes, I did notice that he started to look more… ragged after District Eight," Noh said with a frown. "But here the coverage was not as focused on him. Likely they figured out what was happening and switched to covering the victors and the families — you know how the broadcasts are edited here."

"First time they've ever done that," she said dryly.

"Yes, well, there was a bit of an uproar about it, but the word was that he wasn't giving speeches, so everyone would just have to wait until the parties to see more of him." He leaned forward and kissed her hair.

"Fabulous, higher demand still," she said, almost with a pout before she nuzzled into him.

"Yes, I thought you should be warned. He'll likely be mobbed with press and attention as soon as he steps outside, and it's clear how protective you are of each other, so ... prepare him, if you can," Noh said quietly.

"I'll tell him, but … he just … he can be such a pain." She let all her breath out at once and tried again. "He just holds it so close until it's too much, then he just stops."

"I'm truly sorry to hear that. It's not an easy thing to see, especially up close," Noh whispered, holding her a bit tighter on hearing how upset she was on her victor's behalf. "It won't help, but all of the victors have gone through this in some way. The other stylists and I were just discussing how hard it is on them all."

"Yeah, but … how many of them managed to make it worse for themselves by just being _quiet?"_

"None that I'm aware of," Noh had to admit. "Actually, Jessica Drew's quietness and privacy has only served to make her more appealing to the public. Mysterious — is the word I've heard bandied about. It's a shame the same isn't happening for him."

"Yet," she said. "Hopefully it'll shift once they're over the shiny new part of it. I've heard stuff from the agents on the train."

"Oh? Any cute agents catch your eye?" he asked her in a teasing tone, clearly trying to shift her out of her funk.

"No," she said with a little smirk as she shifted her stance slightly as she slipped from his arms and started to almost pace. "But there was one that seemed to take a shining to him."

"Well, he _is_ the newest victor. That doesn't surprise me," Noh laughed.

"She preferred the _plaid_ , Noh. Over one of _my_ designs. Who does that?"

"She did not," he laughed outright as she got animated in her storytelling — all hands and theatrical expressions.

"She _did_ , and I thought for sure she'd side with me. I had the nicest shirt for him. It was gunmetal with a metallic thread throughout, perfectly fitted for him — it would have totally changed the way the jeans looked, but no. She _liked_ the plaid."

"Clearly, she has no idea what she is talking about. You shouldn't have asked her advice," he teased. "I'm sure had you asked another stylist, he would have been properly dressed."

"But she was so cute and so well-dressed!" She looked as if the prospect of the girl choosing 'wrong' was still physically painful.

"Ah, then I see where you would have been led astray," he said with a little laugh. "How dare she confuse you so?"

She grinned and pulled him over to the couch to curl up for a little bit. "If we have the time, we could just … relax. Seeing as I don't know what your plans are for your triumphant return to the spotlight." Jubilee was smiling up at him as she said it. " _Mr. Mysterious_. Hidden away for months. Building your intrigue."

"Well, I thought I could take to heart your teasing and strive to look more otherworldly," he said with a smirk. "I have a beautiful white outfit with galaxies in the trim."

"Do you need me to apply any bodypaint?" she asked with a wide grin.

"Not yet," he said with a laugh. "But I may just do that. Or perhaps I'll dye it back to its original color so you don't have to work so hard to hide the blue when you feel like painting."

"I don't care what color you are, Marvel Boy."

"Well that's good," he said. "I'd hate to think you have just been kissing me for the novelty of a blue lover." He swept her up in a little spin that ended in a kiss to emphasize his point, still grinning widely at her.

"I did miss you," she said as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"And I you," he said. "I'm just glad that my house arrest is over so I can spend more time with you — though I admit, it will make keeping the secret that much harder," he teased. "I can hardly keep from wanting to see you every second."

"You're such a romantic," she said, grinning still.

"You wouldn't have me any other way."

* * *

 _Capitol Neighborhoods_

* * *

With Peter out of commission, the remaining five members of the team meant to check on the trainers in the Capitol had to do a little more organizing and reassignments to get everyone covered. There were plenty of trainers, and they seemed to live _all over_ the Capitol.

And with the added fact that it was clear someone knew about their plans, their earlier assignments to run solo surveillance on the trainers just wasn't going to cut it. It meant that they would have to run pretty hard and heavy without much time for breaks over the next three days, but the kids honestly felt safer using the buddy system.

Jan had come up to the Capitol to take Peter's place running surveillance with Kurt, while Luke and Mike were up to their usual — they'd been teamed up since long before the rest of them were part of the Tahiti Program, and they saw no reason to change that. Steve was with Sin, and all three teams split off as soon as they hit the ground running.

Kurt had to admit that he was glad to have Jan with him for some of the names on the list. The so-called Grim Reaper gave him the creeps, if he was honest, but only partly because he was pretty sure the guy had taken it as an insult that neither of the Nine tributes last year had used the sickles, when that was what they usually went with.

"I saw Peter before I came up here," Jan whispered to him as they made their way through the streets of the outer neighborhoods of the Capitol. Everyone who was anyone was gathering for the three-day extravaganza happening deeper in the Capitol, and even the poorer citizens made a point to come out for the free food and free show, so there weren't many people that could spot them. But even if they had been spotted, no one would recognize them. Steve, as it turned out, was pretty good with paints in more ways than one, and they were all decked out in the colorful makeup of Capitol citizens ready for a party.

"How was he?" Kurt asked quietly, half his focus on keeping his feet the way Matt had trained him to do to stay as quiet as possible and half his focus on his concern for his friend.

"Still pretty out of it. The swelling has gone down in his wrist enough that Celia thinks it's a spider bite, and he's responding to black widow antivenin, but not fully, so they're not sure if it's a hybrid, something augmented, or a just a different species altogether."

"But he's doing better?"

"Yes." She reached over and gave Kurt's arm an encouraging squeeze. "Don't you worry. He'll be up and telling jokes in no time."

"I'm sure," Kurt said with a little smile her way. It was nice to be able to go into a mission without the masks for a change, he reflected, because it meant he could actually see Jan's expressions, even if she had black and yellow stripes and he was painted a deep blue with white accents that made his face look more angular than it was. "And what about Clint?"

Jan's smile slipped a bit. "Well, anytime you get shot, it's always a problem. And he got shot _and_ poisoned, so…" She shrugged. "Last I saw, he was _heavily_ sedated. According to Dr. Essex, that was just about the only way they could keep him from being in pain… or at least, being awake for the hurt. That stuff is _nasty_."

"But he'll recover?"

Jan nodded. "Stuff should be out of his system before we get home — it's just taking a little longer for the recovery because, well, he also got shot, remember? So even if the poison was burnt out, he'd still be hurting from the gunshot wound."

"Yes, I remember." He paused for a second but had to ask. "And… have you had the chance to see Kate at all? I haven't seen her since just after the tour started, and with Peter and Clint both down…"

"No, sorry," Jan said. "She's been out in the field this whole time, and we haven't teamed up. Which is kind of a shame, considering. I mean, Carol was a fun partner, but can you imagine all three of us?"

Kurt had to grin at that mental image. "You'd certainly be unstoppable."

"No doubt about it," Jan agreed with a fervent nod, smiling his way as the two of them made their way to Williams' apartment.

It was, as Kurt had predicted, fairly creepy. The whole place sort of felt like Williams was really embracing the 'Grim Reaper' identity, and Kurt was suddenly very glad that he hadn't trained with this guy as he felt a shiver travel down his spine.

"Yeah, he creeped me out when I was a tribute too," Jan whispered to Kurt as the two of them searched the dreadfully-decorated apartment. Jan pulled at the drapery and made a face Kurt's way. "Really? Where does he shop? Halloween Discounts R Us?"

Kurt had to chuckle at her distaste, and his unease was greatly helped by the fact that there didn't seem to be any cameras here — and, aside from the fact that there were weapons strewn about almost haphazardly, there was nothing more dangerous than the fact that they had to walk carefully. A stubbed toe with all these blades around could mean losing a foot.

"No, seriously. I'm not even _from_ the Capitol, and this is an assault on my fashion sense. How? _How_ do you live in the _Capitol_ and still dress like this?" Jan continued as they moved on from the main areas and she found a bedroom with clothes strewn just as haphazardly. She glared at a dark shirt in particular and just shook her head. "This is just _wrong_."

"Don't hold back," Kurt chuckled.

She looked up his way and flashed him a sly smile. "I can't help it. Bobbi brought a fashion magazine down once when she was still trying to learn how to navigate Capitol politics, and I just… I got hooked helping her out. It's a whole other world, and it's not life or death, and I really think I'd be good at it."

"I bet you would," he replied with a smile of his own, watching her growing distaste with every single decoration in the house with continuing amusement.

"Seriously, Nightcrawler. This. This is criminal."

"We'll add it to the list of things SHIELD has to watch him for."

Jan just _beamed_ over his way. "Oh yes. We're going to get along famously while we're teamed up together," she decided with a nod as she all but escorted him by the arm out of the apartment when she'd finished placing the cameras. "Come on, Nightcrawler. Let's go find some other horribly decorated place and get this _over_ with."

* * *

 _District Seven Capitol Suite_

* * *

Noh had left the Seven suite long enough to get prepared for the evening's festivities, and when he returned, it was to find Jubilee fussing over her victor, who looked like he already had enough of the whole affair.

"The tie is straight," Logan said easily, with a tone of patience, watching her expression. "Just like it was ten minutes ago when you were fiddling with it."

"I just want you to look your best," she said. It wasn't until just then that Noh could see for himself — and up close — that the promise of a crowd had Logan a bit … negative was a kind way to put it. He hadn't touched a drop of liquor since they'd gotten there, but it was plainly written on his face that he'd really like to.

"You're going to be perfectly fine," Jubilee told him as she reached up to brush a lock of hair out of his face, and Logan just gave her a dull look. "What do you think, Noh?"

"I think any man who can face down Victor Creed and come out on top is brave enough to face down even the most ardent of Capitol crowds."

Jubilee beamed at him and tried to transfer some of her good cheer to Logan, though he seemed skeptical of both stylists' positive outlook.

Noh left ahead of them, and Jubilee threaded her arm through Logan's to lead him down into the center of the madness.

They'd barely stepped out of the elevator when it started. Flashbulbs everywhere and shouted questions that even to begin with were hard to hear over the crowd. Logan held his head high and simply kept his neutral expression as they made their way through the tightening crowd. The walk from the training center to the palace was a relatively short one, but with the crowds lining the street and pressing in on them, it took some time to get through it.

It wasn't until after they got within sight of the palace that he started to finally _hear_ what the people in the crowd were actually saying. Almost all of them were inferring that he and Jubilee were a couple — something that Logan would find out quickly had been considered factual in the Capitol since the fiasco after the interview with Tivan.

"How long have you two been dating?"

"How did the two of you stand to be apart for so long?"

"How does the Firecracker compare to Kate? Or Silver Fox? Do you date any 'normal' girls?"

"Were there any special trips to Seven that weren't reported?"

"Are you exclusive?"

The last one had Logan chuckling to himself at the ridiculous nature of the question, though neither he or Jubilee answered any of them as they just kept walking to the party, where the crowd thinned a bit. The majority of people actually attending the soiree slipped off to fall into just a few categories. There were the ultra-elite rich, the victors, the stylists and support teams, and then there were the officials: SHIELD agents and the president's personal guard.

"You've got this," Jubilee told him with a smile before she let go of his arm and Jessica Drew approached him.

"Come on, there are people you're supposed to meet right away," Jess said, though mercifully, one of the first things she did was put a drink in his hand. "You're going to need this."

"I thought you were in the crew that was tryin' to keep this stuff away from me," Logan muttered, though he took a drink before she could change her mind.

"Everyone drinks in the Capitol," she said. "You should have seen the last time Bobbi had to take a breathalyzer," she added with a little smirk.

"That's your tall buddy, right?" he asked, still scanning the crowd with a bit of hesitation.

"Yeah, the tall blonde. Not enough lady victors around here, so we tend to stick together. Except Sarkissian. She does _not_ count." Jess shook her head, the look of disdain clear on her face.

"You don't say," he muttered in a sarcastic tone. "Didn't notice when she was pawin' at me."

Jessica let out a sigh and offered him a little smile. "We'll try and keep her off you. It tends to make _all_ of us look bad when she plays."

"I can handle myself," Logan replied, almost defensively.

"I'm sure you can," Jess said with a shrug. She tipped her head at one of the few party guests who wasn't dressed any more extravagantly than a simple suit. "You ready to make nice with a few people? I promise it's almost painless with this one."

"Do I have a choice?" he asked dryly.

"Not really," she admitted as she took his arm and led him over to where the gentleman was — and Logan recognized him immediately as the stoic-looking agent he'd seen on the train often enough to recognize, though he never did catch the guy's name.

The SHIELD agent looked up from his drink — he seemed to be lost in thought — and gave Logan a tight smile. "Oh, hello. The time has come for the proper introductions, I suppose," he said with an easy tone that belied the fact that he was still clearly not thinking about the party at all — or for that matter about the young man in front of him.

"No reason to waste your time," Logan replied. "You seem too busy for stupid small talk."

"Not really. At least, not right now — just thinking about future plans. Please, have a seat," he said easily, motioning for Logan to sit at his table with him. "I'm Special Agent Phil Coulson, by the way. It's good to finally be formally introduced. I'm sorry I didn't have the time to stop in and say hello on the train."

"Forget it," Logan replied, glancing up at the crowd around them. "I'm sure you got a million more important things to do than waste your time here, even if it is nice to have the name to go with the face."

Coulson just nodded at that. "Well, we'll be seeing more of each other at these little gatherings and at the next Games of course," he said by way of explanation. "I work under Director Fury."

"Condolences."

The corners of Coulson's mouth twitched. "Yes, well, thankfully I'm not officially a Gamemaker. I leave that to Assistant Director Hill and Director Fury himself. I just keep the engine running, so to speak. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

"I doubt you can get me what I need," Logan replied as he turned his head to look out into the crowd.

"I think you'd be surprised," Coulson said, still with half a smirk on his face.

"You got a hot tip on how to get out of this BS? Because I'd be much obliged, Agent Coulson."

The smirk fell, bit only a little. "If I knew how to do that, I wouldn't be here myself. I've always hated these things."

"Then maybe just a drink before you get back to whatever's weighin' so heavy on you."

"I'd like that," Coulson said with a little smile. "Though if you want to escape, and you don't mind the fact that I'm not much for conversation, you're welcome to find my table again."

"I'll keep that in mind," Logan replied before the three of them had a silent drink, all of them watching something different in the midst of the massive party. When the liquor was gone, Logan gave Coulson a little tip of his head before Jess led him off again, leaving Coulson to get back to more pressing matters.

"Told you that one's not too bad," Jess teased him. "You survived."

"You threw me a softball and you know it," he said under his breath. "What are you building up to anyhow?"

"A whole litany of rich snobs, politicians, and Director Fury. More or less in increasing order of obnoxiousness depending on how Fury's mood is."

"Pretty sure he falls into one or more of those columns as it is," Logan said.

"True enough," she said with a smirk. She looked around the room for a moment before she made a face. "Alright — you want a hardball, that woman over there is Selene Gallio. She is swimming in enough money to make Thanos jealous, and unfortunately, she makes it a point to personally greet every victor on the first night. She's horrible, but we have to at the very least tolerate her. Want to get it over with?"

Logan frowned and shook his head. He really didn't like the look of this one, but he knew going in that there was nothing to be done about it. "Might as well. Better'n waiting for misery to find me I suppose."

Jess didn't have to take him that way, though, because as soon as Selene had seen that she had their attention for even a moment, she painted on a horrible sort of smile and sashayed over to take Logan's arm from Jess. "Charmed to meet you, I'm sure. You know who I am, yes?" she all but purred out.

"Nope. Never been one to pay attention to the who's who, and I haven't been taken up to speed," Logan replied with a little smirk.

For just a moment, something flashed in her eyes, but she just reasserted her grip on his arm. "Well then, let's be sure to get properly acquainted. Won't you take me out for some fresh air? Maybe we can snap a picture or two while we're out."

"You'll have to lead the way if that's got to be done," Logan told her.

"Of course I will," she said as if this wasn't even a question. "Just come along and smile now."

"I'll come along, but I'm not smiling."

She looked him over for a moment with her tongue in her teeth and an oily smile. "Yes, I saw the clips from the tour. Strong silent type — I can paint a picture with that; not to worry, my dear." She paused to smooth his lapels — taking a little too much time and care in pretending to flatten them out even though they were perfect already. "A smile _would_ help quash those nasty little rumors following you around. You know, if it looks like you're _enjoying_ other women's company…"

"They'd just make up new ones," Logan reasoned, keeping her hands in view as best he could.

"Oh, but those are much more fun," Selene argued with a wider smile. "And much truer to life."

"I think you're reading too much into the stories they tell," he replied, though he didn't lose the little glare that he'd acquired.

"Rumors are the only things that matter here, I think you'll find," she told him with that same smile as she reasserted her grip and led him outside to where several photographers were just waiting to get good shots of the partygoers at the more exclusive parties. She took his arm in a tighter grip as she waved the photographers' way and said, "Smile now. It won't hurt you in the least."

"Yet to be proven," he replied dryly, refusing to do just that — though he grudgingly allowed her to pull him where she liked.

When she was through getting all the pictures she wanted, she led him back inside, and this time the smile looked a lot more genuine. "And I thought you were going to fight me. You were right — I shouldn't listen to the rumors around the Capitol," she said with obvious amusement.

"Why would I fight you for a few stupid pictures?" he asked with a frown.

"You seem to fight everyone for even an inch," she said before she just smiled a bit wider. "And you really _don't_ know who I am." With that, and without another word of explanation, she sauntered off to latch on to Sam by the arm, and he didn't look the _least_ bit happy about it.

Logan was at a total loss as he watched Selene drag Sam off. He just didn't understand what this woman was hinting at. He started to take a few steps toward her to start asking questions when Jess swooped in to pull him away to the next introduction. She only got him a few paces before he pulled back to stop her. "What the hell's the story with that woman?"

Jess looked Selene's way and fell into a bit of a glare when she saw that Selene had cornered Sam. "She runs a side business related to the Games — that's where she made all her money — and… well, it's not a conversation for the present company to overhear." She gestured around at the wealthy Capitolites with a look that was nearly loathing.

"Come on, Jess. How 'bout you find somewhere to have this conversation then?" he replied with a bit of heat.

She frowned his way for a moment. "How much have you had to drink?" she asked without answering his question.

"Clearly not enough if _you_ don't have the stones to just come out and tell me what the hell this is," he said.

"Probably not," she muttered half to herself.

"You've been tryin' to hold my hand for everything I've had to put up with so far," Logan pointed out. "So how bad is it that you won't tell me, and how many more of these idiots do I need to not strangle before you clue me in?"

"Just one more politician type. He's nothing like Selene, I promise. And of course Fury and his assistant director — your call on who we knock out first."

"You're putting me off," he said. "I want you to tell me what's got _you_ so irritated just looking at her."

"I told you — this isn't the place for that conversation." She leaned forward a bit and dropped her voice low. "There are still cameras here, just not the flashy kind."

"I really don't give a damn," he said.

"You should," she replied with a frown.

"Miss Drew, perhaps you could introduce me to your new friend," the little blonde woman walking up behind Jess said with a fairly believable smile. "You two look like you could use an easy change of subject matter."

Jess managed to pull out of her frown just a bit — though Logan could tell it was mostly for show as she said. "I'm sure you've seen our newest victor around already, Seraph. But I'll let him introduce himself."

Logan looked between the two of them and let out a breath before he offered his hand to her. "Please, call me Logan," he said as reasonably as he could, though he still kind of wanted to thwack Jess one.

"It's a pleasure," Seraph replied as she gingerly took his hand. "Take care of Miss Drew; she's far more clever than she lets on." With that, Seraph gave Jess a little wink and a warm smile and simply left them alone, hoping that she'd managed to redirect him for Jess's sake.

"She's an old… acquaintance," Jess said, shaking her head a bit.

"Sure she is. Let's just get this over with, huh?"

"Right. Let's knock out AD Hill first — better to catch her early in the party."

"I hope there's not a test when this is over, because my tolerance for giving two damns is already out the window."

"You'll see these people often enough you'll get their names and their birthdays memorized by Tuesday," she said with a smirk.

"Yeah, that's just not gonna happen," he said, matching her smirk, though there was no smile in the light of his eyes.

When Jess brought him over to Maria Hill, it was clear she had the other SHIELD agent's distaste for parties as she looked like she was treating her dress as if it had sharp corners. She looked up at Logan and Jess on their approach and barely managed a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You must be our newest victor. You prefer Logan, right?" she said with a half-believable tone of approachability.

"Yeah, you managed to figure that out finally?" he said shortly. "And you?"

"Maria Hill. Assistant Director of SHIELD," she said, dropping her earlier friendly tone and glancing for a second at Jess before she raised an eyebrow Logan's way.

But that seemed to actually get a bit of a smirk out of him. "Then I guess it's nice to meet you, Maria Hill, Assistant Director of SHIELD."

"Just Hill is fine," she said, frowning.

"I think I like the full one better," Logan said, looking out over the crowd. "You got a middle name you wanna share, or should I make one up for you?"

"I don't," she said shortly. "But at least you seem to be having a good time."

"Your assessment is highly over-exaggerated," he replied as he finally bothered to meet her gaze.

"Well, you've found your way back to the spirits and you're giving out nicknames. That passes for normal for you, doesn't it?" she replied curtly.

"I didn't give you a nickname," he argued. "You told me that's your name. I just repeated it."

"And the middle name was just a jab, I'm sure," she said with the beginnings of a smirk.

"Trying to be thorough," he said with a shrug. "I know how you SHIELD types get all worked up about that kind of thing."

"At least that shows you can be taught. I had a few in my office who thought you were just a drunk lumberjack."

"They were right," Logan said. "You should stick to that approximation."

"A drunk lumberjack who is teaching himself Japanese," she continued in an even tone.

"You're behind on your intel. I already did that," he replied.

"Right. I'll make a note — no need for further learning once he thinks he's done."

"Tell you what, Maria Hill, Assistant Director of SHIELD, when you catch up to me on that, you can lecture me on whether or not I'm done."

She just smirked at him. "It's good to see you taking an interest in life, Mr. Howlett."

He let the smirk fall. "Who says I'm taking an interest?"

"I doubt anyone would go to the bother of bettering themselves for no reason. But then, what do I know? I'm behind on my intel," she said, the smirk still present.

"You should fix that," he said. "It's not a very good reflection on your agency to be so far behind."

"Believe it or not, I'm working on it as we speak," she said.

"Just let me know where your cameras are so I can give you a show later."

"I'll be sure to tell half the staff. You have quite a following," she replied easily.

"Well, when SHIELD figures out why, I'd like to read that report."

"It may take a while," she said with a smirk. "But I'll try not to keep you in suspense."

"Waste of money and manpower," he replied.

"Well, you did request a report. And SHIELD does try so hard to assist the victors of the Games," Maria said with a not-at-all believable smile.

He narrowed his eyes at her and tipped his chin up before he gestured with one hand. "You need a mirror. Work on that. Not buyin' it at all."

She actually let out a bit of a laugh. "It's the dress. I can't breathe in it, and it's hard to focus on anything else," she said in half a whisper.

"Never understood why you girls make yourselves miserable like that. Not like any of the guys are going through much torture." He said as he pulled at his tie and handed her a shot, which to Jess' surprise, Hill took with a subdued smirk when he raised his own glass a hair her way. "Outside of forced conversations and the portable noose, of course."

"The dress isn't my call. I'd prefer khakis and a comfortable shirt, but apparently that's not in fashion, whatever that means," she half grumbled before she threw the shot back alongside him.

"I'll tell my stylist to get her ass in gear to fix that," he said. "Though she might force yellow on you."

"As long as I can breathe in it," Hill said with a smirk. "And while you're at it, tell her to lay off her boyfriend. No one believes their denials, and no one wants to fire either of them for it."

"Right. I'll see what I can remember by the time I see her again. Lotta liquor between me and her right now."

"Just be sure you don't prove any rumors while you're at it," Hill told him, this time a bit serious as she looked him over.

"Which rumors would those be?" he asked, leaning her way so he could lower his volume a bit more. "They seem to contradict each other on the regular."

"I don't write the stuff; I just report it to Fury when it gets out of hand," Hill shrugged. "Just stay away from Sarkissian and your stylist when you get really going, won't you? I can only put out so many fires a day."

"I've _never_ done anything with a girl when I was wasted," he replied, sounding a bit insulted and shaking his head lightly. "Not gonna start now."

"Then you'll be fine," she said. She looked past him with a heavy sigh directed toward one of the rich guests. "You'll have to excuse me, but this really is someone I have to talk to. Wish me luck on not taking his head off."

"Break his leg, Maria Hill, Assistant Director of SHIELD."

As Maria headed off to go talk to her quarry with a bit of a smirk still painted on her face, Jess came sliding up to Logan with a look of sheer disbelief.

"I have never seen that before," she said in obvious shock.

"What?" Logan asked with a frown as he looked her up and down.

"I've never seen AD Hill laugh. At a party. Genuinely. Ever." Jess just shook her head as if she still couldn't believe it.

"Maybe you just weren't paying attention," he said as he picked up his glass.

She shook her head again and joined him for a seat at the table, filling her own glass in the process. "No, I think you just… hit a fluke. That never happens, believe me."

"Okay. Fluke thing. I'll buy that." He looked her way as he tipped the glass back and drained it. "How many more do I need now?"

"Fury will find you himself when he wants to chat, so it's really just Worthington left. You'll hate him, I promise," she said as she refilled his glass for him.

"Sounds like you have a fun-filled night ahead of us. When is this stupid thing over?"

"Another few hours, sorry," she said. "But if we just knock Worthington out, I promise you can stop trying to be sociable for a while. Those are the big names anyway."

"I'm not trying," he said.

"True that," she said, saluting him with her glass.

As it turned out, though, Worthington was apparently occupied talking with Coulson, who looked like he very much did _not_ want to be talking to him — but since he had his attention elsewhere, Jess and Logan just settled in with a bottle of wine and started to draw attention of their own as Sam finally managed to detach from Selene and more or less hid with the two of them with a look of annoyance settled into his entire body language.

Logan didn't say a word but instead just poured him a glass and pushed it his way before refilling his and Jess' glasses.

"This seat taken?" Rhodey asked as he joined them at the table.

The three of them shared a look and all seemed to just shake their heads in unison as Jess handled pouring for him. "Little different not being the new kid?" Sam asked Rhodey's way.

"Yeah, I don't miss it. At all," Rhodey said, then glanced Logan's way. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," Logan said before he took a drink and just stared at his hands, though he was sure not to add ' _it's mine_ ', even if he was thinking it.

"I've already seen a few new things this year, though," Jess said with a smirk Logan's way. "Like Hill laughing."

"Seen that," Sam said with a wave. "She's horrible at faking it."

"No, you don't get it," Jess said, tipping her head toward her drinking partner. " _He_ got her _laughing_." She let out a little disbelieving laugh and tipped her wine glass back, though it was the statement which had both of the men looking her way in shock.

"Don't look at me like it's hard," Logan said with a frown, his focus on his wine glass as he swirled the contents.

"But it _is_ ," Rhodey said.

"I didn't do a damn thing," Logan replied.

"Yeah, I'm still trying to figure out what happened myself," Jess said with a smirk.

"I'm jealous," Rhodey laughed Logan's way. "It took me ages to get even halfway comfortable here. And I'm still not."

"Who the hell said I was comfortable?" Logan asked with a disbelieving expression. "Do I _look_ comfortable? At least you can fake this crap for them."

"You got Hill laughing. And drinking," Rhodey pointed out.

"Don't mind him," Sam said, waving a hand at the second-newest victor before he looked Logan's way. "No one here is _comfortable_. It's all relative at this point, really."

"Yeah, the word we're looking for is probably more like 'tolerating'," Rhodey had to agree before the two of them fell into their own sort of side conversation, something about how Sam had helped Rhodey through his parties his first year, though Logan had more or less tuned them out by then.

Jess had poured them all another few rounds before the tall blonde politician he was supposed to meet had finished bothering Coulson — and Jess didn't even have to take him anywhere when the guy just invited himself to the table with a self-important look on his face as he sat across from the little group of victors.

"Always so nice to see people getting along at the beginning of the new year," the man said with a politician's smile.

"Well there is a lot of alcohol involved," Logan deadpanned. "Everyone's tolerance for bullshit is way up."

"There always is at events like this," was the reply before the man leaned over to extend his hand to Logan. "We haven't been introduced. Warren Worthington II, though I doubt you've heard of me in the trees in Seven."

"I'm sure I recall hearing my father say something about you years ago when the contracts were still open between districts," Logan replied.

Worthington looked genuinely pleased to hear it. "Well, it's good to know you didn't lose all that upbringing in the wilds," he said, looking even more self-important than before. "Though I think you would find your father's memories of me were from a time when I held less sway than I do now."

"I couldn't say," Logan replied. "All I can tell you is that the man never said a bad word about anyone he knew. Even if they deserved it."

"That's a rare quality," Worthington said. "Maybe one you'll put into practice here — you certainly haven't in the Games or elsewhere."

"Not likely," he replied with a tight smile. "I'm more of a 'stay honest' type if I can help it."

"Then your silence in the tour wasn't just an attempt to be nice," Worthington surmised. "That would have been a good spin, but ah well."

"It'll spin the way they want it to regardless. Not a thing I can do to change that."

Worthington just shook his head at that. "You'll learn how to change it, or the system will consume you. One of the two."

"I like to think I won't fall into those two categories. That seems narrow-minded."

"That's what most of the victors I meet say, but I've been running things for twenty years, and I've yet to see any other option," Worthington said, his shoulders settling importantly.

"That's a disappointment," Logan said, sounding honestly disenchanted by it. "We'll talk again later about this."

Worthington paused for a moment and tipped his head at Logan, then just chuckled a bit. "Yes, we will," he said before he stood up to leave. "Miss Drew — always a pleasure. And of course, Rhodes and Wilson ... good to see you _adjusting,_ Rhodes." He gave the four victors another practiced smile before he swept off to go find someone who would heap more praise on him than those four would.

"So long, prick," Sam muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"That's the kind of thing you say louder if you're gonna say it," Logan said before he picked up his glass again.

"Not to the guy you're gonna be asking for money for your tributes in six months," Sam pointed out.

"Oh, great," Logan replied. "He was a crook then that didn't know how to negotiate. I'm sure now he's a dream boat."

Jess snorted. "Yeah, sure. Only if you're from Nine. He always gives Nine a generous donation since his son got hired as a stylist there."

"Good to know," Logan said, watching the man sleaze his way up to a couple of very rich-looking women.

"Actually, the kid's only half as obnoxious as his dad. Which… isn't saying much, but hey. It's a step in the right direction," Sam said with a smirk.

"Still a pain," Rhodey muttered, which just had Sam smirking wider.

"Just have to appeal to his vanity," Logan said half under his breath.

"Yeah, if you talk him up, he's good for a _generous_ donation," Jess said, rolling her eyes. "It also helps if you look like me, though. Sorry." She didn't look sorry in the least. "Though he and Norman get along beautifully — that's how Peter was able to get that antidote in the Games last year."

"It's because they've been in business for 20 years or better," Logan said, shaking his head. "Helps to know about the skeletons in the closet."

"It really does," Rhodey said, sounding a bit annoyed about it. "Stane's got good connections with him too, not that he uses them much."

"Probably because Stark was always the bigger business there," Logan said before he gave them a look when they all seemed surprised that he knew what he did. "I've always paid attention."

"That's good, because your first year mentoring is the first — what are they calling it? Quarter Quell?" Sam looked to Jess, who nodded. "Some new idea for the 25th anniversary of the Games."

"Sounds awful. Or is it just because people are bored with the same old-same old?"

"Yes," Rhodey said simply.

"That and I'm not sure how happy the president was about the Games, and Fury would like to not be killed in his sleep," Jess said in an undertone. "Apparently, there were 'too many heroes' and not enough bloodshed."

Logan just snorted at that one. "Not sure which Games he was watching. I came out of the damn thing covered in gore and labeled a bad guy."

"I didn't say it was a sane assessment," Jess muttered quietly.

"So the usual then," Logan guessed.

"Just about," Rhodey agreed, though all three previous victors were speaking in low tones with glasses raised to their lips. "It's common knowledge, even after just one Games round. You'll see in July."

Logan just covered his eyes with one hand and tried to center himself. He was just about out of steam for keeping his semi-approachable attitude and nose diving right into 'go to hell'.


	30. Puppet Strings

**Notes: And here we're continuing on with our nightmare that is the Capitol.**

 **As for why we continue on undeterred, well - we love it, plain and simple. This is our playground. -robbie**

 **Well. I'm curious as to why someone would review without reviewing. If you don't have something nice to say, I'm curious as to why the hell you think I'd want to hear it or give half a damn as to what you think about it. How about - bc I wanna write it. Or. how about - I don't do it for YOU. I do it for ME. I share it in case someone wants to enjoy it too, but I sure as hell have NEVER done anything for something like reviews or a popularity contest. That … is the epitome of shallow. And if you wanna show your maturity level, go ahead and tell ME why I should be writing anything. - CC … P.S. Suck it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 30: "Puppet Strings"**

* * *

The clasp around the waist of Raven's dress weighed heavily in her thoughts, and not just because it was poking her slightly whenever she bent over.

It was a prototype, something called an image inducer, and this Dr. Essex who seemed intent to control her every move had insisted that she give it a field test during the victory tour.

The image inducer would certainly help her run the kind of missions that Essex seemed to favor sending her on; it was the perfect disguise, better than makeup and wigs could ever be. The holographic projection allowed her to mimic other people's appearances in incredible detail, using the kind of technology that was being so wasted on projects like simulated training rooms.

The field test was simple enough; her inducer was programmed to mimic the appearance of some low-level SHIELD agent while she was around the Capitol parties. The test would be to see how believable the disguise was — and how well the image would hold up for extended periods of time. And considering this was an all-night party, she would be using the inducer for nearly 24 hours.

So far, things were going swimmingly, actually. She'd already been greeted by several people who recognized her as this SHIELD agent, and she'd even held an extended conversation with someone named Fitz who recognized her from the Academy.

In fact, it was going so well that Raven was already making plans to learn how to program this thing herself and just abscond with it… as soon as she figured out the _other_ thing keeping her from leaving.

When she first woke up, tied down and disoriented, it had been Essex who explained the setup to her, who explained that the device next to her heart would leave her either writhing in pain or dead — depending on just how badly she crossed him. She knew there were others the creep had done this to, and she listened intently whenever she was back in her cell to see if any of them had ever been subjected to whatever this poison was.

They had.

She made it a rule to believe someone when they promised to torture or kill her, even without the proof, but that didn't stop her from considering her options. It could be easy enough to slip her leash if she could just figure out how to counteract the device — and if it weren't for the fact that she knew with all these SHIELD agents around that she was being closely monitored, she would have slipped off to find someone who could look into the problem for her, maybe even remove the device entirely.

The last time she'd been in Three, she had been sure to read up on a few models of possible technologies that would help her see if there even _was_ a device or if it was just a bluff to ensure her cooperation. That was step one.

And once she was free of Essex, she didn't plan to look back. She didn't care what he said about the debt she owed for being brought back to life. She owed nothing to anyone other than herself. And now she had the freedom to move beyond just District Ten, the training to be able to slip through the barriers between districts.

There were so many possibilities. And with a stolen image inducer — and she _would_ make sure to take one when she inevitably made her escape — she could get in anywhere. Steal anything. Kill anyone — for a price.

In a way, she was grateful to Essex. He'd given her the tools and training that would take her from petty thief to professional criminal.

But for now, she knew there was the possibility of poison, so she just did as she had been ordered to do. She schmoozed with the SHIELD agents all around her as well as the citizens of the Capitol with their heads filled with nothing but fuzzy-headed adoration for their newest victor.

She couldn't believe it when they told her he'd won. The lunk-headed good-for-nothing from Seven shouldn't have made it past the first few days. She'd seen from the start he was soft-headed and weak and too easy to rely on others like the kid from Nine. And the Capitol would see it too, eventually.

She had already perfected mimicking voices long ago, and now she had an image inducer — and watching the coverage of the victory parties and seeing the idiot who killed her walking around _alive_ … she had a few ideas for how to put this inducer to _much_ better use once she got out on her own.

* * *

The group of victors at Logan's table was growing as it was clear this was the best spot to get away from the Capitolites. By then, not only had Sue Storm joined them but Bobbi Morse as well and with the two Career victors sitting together on the other side of Jess from Logan, as he got to see firsthand that the three women really had become closer once they hit the Capitol.

Jess made sure every drink stayed filled, though Logan had to raise an eyebrow Bobbi's way when he saw the pace she was setting — and the fact that she didn't _look_ that drunk. And yet, she was somehow still perfectly capable of a brilliant false smile every time someone came to ask her for a dance — which was often.

Bobbi had just sat back down when another victor joined them, though Peter Quill looked more nervous than sociable as he half shoved his way into the group with a whispered, "hide me" that had Rhodey and Sam closing ranks around him as he ducked under the table.

Logan didn't do more than raise an eyebrow, half convinced the group of friends was screwing with him until the president's daughter stalked past looking slightly more irritated than usual. The green-skinned woman glared around the table of victors for a good long time until she finally moved on elsewhere, and Rhodey half whispered, "Coast is clear," at which point Peter climbed up from under the table and sat in a chair between the two men.

"I was running out of places to hide and people to dance with that she wouldn't cut in on," Peter said, a bit wide-eyed.

Logan just stared at him for a moment before shaking his head and going back to what he'd been doing before. Keeping good pace with Bobbi and tuning everyone out.

With Gamora gone, Peter just settled into a lively conversation with Rhodey, since they were two of the most recent victors — comparing notes on how they were handling the parties and who was conspicuously absent since last year.

It was another ten minutes before there was another visitor to the table, though this one didn't want to join them. The skinny blonde man with a heavy Capitolian accent tapped Bobbi on the shoulder with a smile that wasn't quite what Logan would consider genuine. When she turned his way and saw who it was, she painted on a smile and a laugh that was almost believable as he started to wrap his arms around her from behind.

"Picture time, love," he told her, which just got Bobbi to finish off her drink and tip her head Logan's way before she got up, pulled his arm around her waist, and let him lead her off so the two blondes could be seen in public together, half wrapped around each other.

Logan frowned deeply at the pair of them as they headed off, clearly not buying it at all. "What am I missing here?" he asked suddenly.

"Oh, that's Hunter," Peter supplied helpfully. "He was Bob's escort during her Games. Sometime around her victory tour, the Capitol decided they were a thing and, well, that was that."

"It's a bit like you and your stylist," Sue put in.

Logan frowned at that and shook his head. "So why the hell are they going along with it?"

"The same reason my brother is pretending to date Alicia Masters," Sue said, glancing around to be sure no one could overhear before she added in an undertone, "It's not exactly like they have a choice in the matter."

He glared at that, thought about saying something, but then reconsidered before he just went back to his drink, trying to unravel what she was saying and wondering how much that was going to apply to his situation — considering that everything with Jubilee was just an irritating story from the Captiol and its press. It was just stories, right? Why were they playing along?

"At least she has someone she actually likes," Peter grumbled. "Have you seen Hank with Abigail Brand? That's just painful."

"And you and Gamora?" Sam prompted.

Peter made a face at him. "I'm actively _not_ going along with that as much as _possible,_ thank you _very much_."

"How common a problem is this?" Logan asked, looking a bit more grim. "Or is this just something they push on the new ones?"

"Depends on if you have someone they can match you up with," Sam admitted. "Never been so grateful to be a terminal bachelor."

"And on how enamored the public is with your love life," Rhodey added, sparing a glance Jess's way. "Some of us manage to stay out of the limelight somehow, but it might have something to do with how new and shiny you are, yeah."

Jess just shrugged for a moment, though she looked past the others out into the main party and frowned. "Peter—" she started to say.

But there was not enough time for Peter to hide under the table again as the president's daughter came sweeping over with a haughty sort of look on her face. "Have you been drinking this entire time?" she demanded of him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I have," Peter said with a nod, and with none of the earlier energy that had made him and Rhodey the life of the party moments ago.

"Good," she said with a bit of a pleased smirk. "Then you shouldn't be able to fight me so much."

"Maybe I need a little more," Peter half muttered, his shoulders scrunched in slightly.

Logan pushed his glass Quill's way without a word, and Quill downed the rest of it before Gamora all but pulled him out of his chair to sweep him off away from the corner where they had all been hiding. The other victors in the know glanced at each other before they seemed to come to a wordless decision and followed the pair of them, grabbing a few dance partners of their own and clearly sticking close to Quill to keep an eye out for him in what little ways they could.

Which left Logan alone for all of a moment before a blonde stylist he'd seen talking with Jubilee earlier in the night came up to him with a smile. "You should be out dancing," she said.

"I'd really rather not," he said softly.

"I promise not to step on your toes," she said brightly as she extended a hand. "I'm Honey Lemon, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," he replied before he let out a breath and stood up. "I suppose this is one of those mandatory things?"

She nodded. "Jubes sent me so you couldn't get asked by — and I'm quoting her here — ' _one of those creepy monsters wearing lady costumes_ '."

He smirked a bit at that. "Sounds accurate."

"I only know the basic steps, so I won't ask for spins or dips or anything," she promised, still smiling.

"Then I won't do them," Logan agreed. "It's easier to act like I don't know how to do that stuff when your partner has no expectations."

"Yeah, don't worry. This isn't my first victory tour. I did the same thing for Rhodey, and he _did_ step on my toes, so as long as you don't do that, we're fine."

"Hasn't happened yet," he told her as they got onto the dance floor. He glanced over at the rest of the victors doing their level best to dance and look good about it before he looked up at Honey with a little smirk and simply pulled her along with a light touch.

It seemed like Honey was honestly enjoying herself, with a wide, beaming smile the entire time, but she was no poker player and completely lost all semblance of a smile when she spotted Selene headed their way. "Ooooh, I hate her," she said, scrunching up her entire face and even her shoulders.

"Seems like no one here likes anyone else," he muttered quietly.

"Oh, that's not true!" Honey assured him. "The stylists try to get along with everyone — well, everyone _worth_ getting along with…"

"That's because you're all nothin' but sunshine. It's ridiculous."

" _You've_ only met the _good_ ones," Honey said in what she likely thought was a conspiratory whisper. "Stay away from One's stylist. She's _horrible_."

"Pretty sure that won't be an issue," he replied.

Honey nodded thoughtfully, her gaze on Selene as she approached before she leaned forward. "Has anyone told you about her yet?" she asked in an actual whisper.

Logan just shook his head with a frown, but he didn't get to quiz her on it as the woman in question just put a hand on Honey's arm that had the stylist pulling back almost instantly with a not-at-all-hidden look of alarm and distaste. "It's about time you had a dance with the _right_ stylist, don't you think?" Selene said, addressing Logan and ignoring Honey altogether once the little blonde was no longer dancing with him.

"What's it to you?" he asked, letting the frown deepen.

"I have a business to run, dear, and tonight, you are it," she told him with a smile that showed all of her teeth. When he just stared at her for a moment with a glare settling in, she tutted. "Oh, I see. You _still_ don't know who I am. That's a pity — I thought for sure your new _friends_ would let you in on our little arrangement. I honestly thought they were all so close."

"Lady — I don't know what the hell you're dragging out here," he said with no bit of patience.

She just took his arm and leaned in a bit. "I already told you — _you_ are my business. You and all those little friends of yours. The rest of the victors, too." She let her voice drop to a purr. "And you'll make me a mint, Mr. Howlett."

"You're crazy, you know that, right? I'm not doing a damn thing for you."

"I can see how you might think that, since no one bothered to explain the rules to you," she said airily. "The moment you won, you became an asset of mine, and it's time you did your part. Now straighten up and go dance with your darling stylist. My customers do love some good drama, and the thrill of _cheating_ just makes the prices skyrocket."

"Why don't you go shove it up your bony ass, lady," Logan all but growled out. "I already told you I'm not doing anything for you."

But that just had her laughing at him, shaking her head. "You think you're the first victor to tell me no? I've been running this business since before you were born. Who do you think ordered the accident that claimed Drax's family?"

"Too damn bad for you that I don't have any family then."

"Yes, we did have to do a little outreach for you, but honestly, there are just so many _options_." She had an excited gleam in her eyes as she licked her lips for a moment. "And they truly are ripe for the picking. For instance — Mrs. Parker's heart isn't what it used to be, and that poor darling Bishop sister in Twelve is just a step away from suicide, don't you think? Or those adorable twins in Nine. You know they've had to start working in the fields to make ends meet, don't you?"

The frown slipped from his face slowly before he simply locked his jaw and looked somewhere between enraged and resigned. "What do you _want_?" he asked through gritted teeth.

She let out a little noise of delight as she took his arm in a better grip. "That's a good boy," she said, sickly sweet. She gestured toward where Jubilee was with the other stylists. "You can _start_ by playing along — and then If you're good, I'll let you know ahead of time which of my patrons you should escort home when the party is through."

He tried to stop the sneer but couldn't help but half hiss out his response. "Be a damn shame if you lost your newest asset."

"Yes it would," she replied without hesitation. "I always hate sending out kill orders for children, but a contract is a contract. And someone has to pay when I lose my profits."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a soul-sucking witch?"

"Rarely to my face," She said, reaching out to fiddle with his tie. "But really, I'm disappointed. Morse had much more colorful names for me when I told _her_."

"This is my attempt at being a gentleman," he replied.

"Charming," she said with a bit of a sneer. She squeezed his arm for a moment as she steered him the slightest in Jubilee's direction. "Now run along and dance with your stylist. I'll be having a word with her later - unless you'd like to be there for that as well? I understand you have some deeply held protective urges," she added in a delighted purr.

"You keep talking, but all I'm getting is how much you want your neck broken."

"Now that _would_ be a tragedy, especially since all the contracts for your _friends_ would also come up due on my untimely death," she said easily. "I do cover all eventualities, and the kill orders are automatic. I've been doing this for long enough — as you'll recall."

"Yeah, caught that. Ancient soul-sucking bitch."

Selene just gave him a toothy smile that didn't touch her eyes in the least as they reached Jubilee, who was sharing headphones with Noh as the blue stylist showed off a few new songs he had been recommended by some of their friends.

"Oh good — you're all together," Selene said in a business-like tone as both of the stylists looked up from what they were doing and looked alarmed at Logan's expression and Selene's tone. "That will certainly make this much easier." When she saw that she had their attention, she settled her shoulders and looked over at Jubilee. "You seem to be operating under the delusion that you have a say in your part in this story, but the time for clemency is past. From this point forward, you and your victor are _madly_ in love — and you'll be sure to be caught on camera that way as often as I tell you to, or your darling little music-loving _friend_ here will find a sudden and abrupt _end_ to his life and career. Are we understood?" she asked in a tone that belonged in board meetings and not parties.

Jubilee nearly squeaked at that as she looked up at Noh quickly before she very quietly turned back to Selene. "What did we _do_?"

"Tried to change my narrative," Selene replied easily. "And that is bad for profits. Now run along and dance with your victor. You've spent far too much time with this one as it is," she said with a bit of a sneer in Noh's direction as he just looked… shocked.

" _Kutabare, manko_ ," Logan drawled out with a sneer.

"Charming," she said his way with a glare. "Well, I'll leave you two alone, shall I?"

"That'd be a first for you, wouldn't it?" Logan countered, glaring her way venomously.

She just matched his glare as she swept away, leaving the three of them in various states of shock and anger.

"I'll find a way to deal with this," Logan promised both of them. "Screwing with me is one thing …"

Both of them just looked dumbstruck as they were clearly sideswiped by what had just happened, so it wasn't until Honey came running over that anyone said anything — the little blonde stylist had been following the whole thing and looked both furious and terrified.

"Are you — no, no, that's stupid; you're not okay. _Ay_ , that woman!" Honey didn't seem to be quite able to string a sentence together, but she was at least doing better than the other two stylists. "She has no business… that's just… No one told _any_ of us this was part of … I can't believe she would … and those darling kids in Nine!" She let out a huff. "And that sweet May Parker — that was _low_!"

Jubilee finally shook her head hard and looked up at Honey with a little frown. "What are you talking about?"

"She didn't just threaten Noh — that's just for _you_ ," Honey said through her teeth, clearly getting more and more upset, fighting back the tears at the corners of her eyes. "All of those families of the Team Awesome alliance are on the list for _him_ to die if he doesn't play along."

"She _can't_ ," Noh said, breaking in with a thunderous look as that finally seemed to get him to get his feet underneath him.

"She is," Logan replied with a flat tone. "And I can't figure a way out of it yet. But I will."

"But why… this is not the arrangement I understood," Noh all but spluttered.

"What did _you_ understand it to be?" Logan asked, turning Noh's way with a steely glare. "How much _did_ you know?"

Noh looked Logan's way for a moment and just let out all his breath, his entire body language simply … dejected. "After my first year as a stylist, I watched Mary Jane fall apart over Peter Quill when he was informed of the _business_ that woman runs. But I had no idea there were death threats or… or forced relationships or… _any_ of this."

"Can you think of any other reason Quill would allow Gamora within ten yards?" Logan asked, though even mentioning the other victor had Logan into a slow burn. All of them there for all that time and not a damn one of them so much as breathed a word to him. As if they enjoyed watching the chaos too.

"None of them will talk about it," Noh admitted. "And my assigned victor is not exactly forthcoming with details on _any_ topic."

Logan glanced around the room suddenly. "Where the hell's Creed?" he asked. "He hasn't been around all night, and I want to hit someone."

"I…" Honey looked around the room as well. "Oh, I don't know. I was enjoying the peace and quiet without him. No one's ever _wanted_ him to come out when he's off with his stupid posse."

"Just figured he'd enjoy watching that," Logan said half under his breath.

"He's a jerk," Honey told him with her chin thrust out. "And it's a good thing he's not around to make this _worse_ , so let's just… let's dance. Together. Selene won't get mad if you two are together, but this group ... needs cheering up." She grabbed Noh by the arm as she said it and started to drag them all along. "It's a letter of the law thing," she added Logan's way with a triumphant sort of look in her eyes.

Jubilee went along with it, but even once they were on the dance floor, she just couldn't seem to find her smile even with Noh encouraging her to fake it. It just wouldn't come until Logan leaned over her shoulder a bit to whisper all the horrible things he wanted to do to Selene. Noh startled a bit when Jubes laughed outright at Logan's suggestion to stab her in the face with her own hooker heels.

"This is not polite conversation," Noh said, sounding a bit horrified.

"No, but it's not a polite situation either," Logan pointed out.

He looked Logan's way for a moment and then simply tipped his head. "True."

"Outside of small talk and threats to get him to shave, what else can we talk about that will get a smile at this point?" Jubilee asked. "And since we're supposed to be _in love,_ I think smiling is a requirement, isn't it?"

"I suppose — but honestly..." Noh said, though he just more or less trailed off and shook his head at Jubilee.

"You two need to come by for drinks after the party," Jubilee said to Noh and Honey in a very pointed way, and definitely a bit louder than she normally would have.

"Oh yes. We'll double-date," Honey said, catching on with a nod, which at least got a smile out of the stylists as they had something like a plan for fun later on — though it didn't last too long as eventually Moira arrived to break up the party, looking a bit sick herself at the job at hand.

Though… the Seven escort clearly hadn't been expecting the glare from Honey Lemon, of all people, as the little stylist absolutely could not put on a false smile or a false _anything_ to save her life, even as Moira tried to smooth it over with her.

"Party's at your place, right?" Logan asked toward Honey as Moira started to pull him away.

"Oh, yes," she said quickly. "I'll make sure Jubes gets you the right room number. Noh and I will wait up for you two most of the night anyway."

"Don't go back alone," Logan called out to Jubilee just before he simply had to go.


	31. Dehumanizing

**Notes: Yes, we're still in the Capitol. Everything is still miserable. This is still Thanos' Marvel, unfortunately. We will fix it. Eventually. Sometime.**

* * *

 **Chapter 31: "Dehumanizing"**

* * *

 _January 14_

 _The Capitol_

* * *

"Oh, sunshine," Wade sang out quietly. "Sunshine, wake up …. I have co-ffeee and a big sugar-covered blueberry muffin for you!"

Kate raised her head up just the slightest bit, clearly not awake at _all_ , to see that Wade did, in fact, have breakfast. They'd spend the better part of the day before sneaking into the heart of the Capitol to get to their target, so she was pretty wiped, _and_ she'd never been a morning person… "Thanks," she managed to say as she snagged the coffee.

"I wasn't sure what you liked best for the coffee? So I got three different ones. The regular — that you have now, but I also have a cinnamon latte with extra whipped cream, and a double-espresso caramel affair with chocolate sauce. I thought you might need something awesome and sweet. Like you. _Better Hawkeye_."

Kate sat up a little better to see the three different coffee choices and just started to grin and shake her head, switching out her regular for the one with chocolate. "You're kissing up to me," she accused him as she drank deeply of the sweet confection.

"Just running for the position of the extra awesome spot that's open," he said with a grin.

She laughed and shook her head. "No, no, that's still Logan's. You _are_ getting adopted into Twelve, though, the way you are with Cassie. That's so happening."

"Well, hate to argue, but that's entirely her call," Wade disagreed.

"No, no," she insisted. "Soon as our boys back home meet you, you're getting adopted into the group even if you're not dating her anymore. They'd like you." She paused. "Well, Billy and Teddy would. Eli would go insane. So please, _please_ drive him up the wall when and if we ever are allowed to go to Twelve mask-less."

"Will I be allowed to run as alternate Awesome?"

"I already promised Clint he could join the team when we were in the Games," she admitted.

"So there's room for two Hawks but not enough for your very favorite katana-wielding Career? It's like a fan but stabbier."

She laughed at that and raised an eyebrow over the top of her coffee before she took a good long drink. "Well… you'd have my vote, but the boys have to okay it, too. And they already like Clint okay because of the Hawks alliance."

"That's alright; I think I've got an in with our littlest victor."

"Oh?" Kate leaned forward a bit, clearly interested. "How?"

"Just a feeling I get," Wade said as he made a little school girl sigh. "Like we're long-lost brothers."

Kate snorted. "Right. Well, Clint's not even officially an awesome until we get Logan back and he okays it — we have to _all_ be in agreement. So ... I hope you're patient."

"Then let's cement the foundation on this revolution already," Wade said.

She grinned and saluted him with the coffee cup. "I hear that," she laughed. "Sooner we get this done, the sooner we can start this revolution, get Logan back, and you and I can kiss our sweeties without the vampire man looking over our shoulders."

" _Viva la revolution_ ," Wade said with a wide grin as he twirled his katanas for effect.

Kate grinned as she finished the sugary coffee. "You should have some too. Hill's briefing material seemed to say this place is _huge_ , and it might take us a while, so caffeine up. You can have the regular."

"No sugar for me?" Wade teased.

"You're the one kissing up to _me_. I thought I was making the decisions around here," she teased right back as she snatched up the second cup.

Wade saluted her with his coffee and a grin, and the two of them quickly polished off the sugary breakfast before they headed a little further into town.

Most of the Capitol was still asleep this early in the morning, because the parties had been going well into the night, and there would be even more later that night, so most everyone was sleeping off the night before to prep for the later. It certainly made Kate and Wade's job easier as they got closer to the ostentatious house they were supposed to be breaking into, as they simply didn't run into anyone — at least, not anyone who was interested in asking questions rather than nursing a hangover.

The place belonged to Tanaleer Tivan, and according to the intelligence Hill had given them, it was _definitely_ booby trapped, so they had been given the full three days for this mission — just to make sure they were unseen.

In addition to bugging the place, they were also supposed to more or less catalogue what Tivan had in his "collection" and make sure that he didn't have anything that he wasn't supposed to have. Apparently, he'd tried to pull a fast one on Coulson during the Games, and SHIELD wasn't about to let him try to pull anything like that again.

The house itself was lavishly decorated in the deep purples that Thanos favored but also in deep blues and bright whites to match his current look. You could see the not-so-hidden chateau from just about anywhere nearby, the way it was built into the mountain slopes — and it looked like he had access to a private resort via a ski lift. The whole thing was clearly meant to show off just how important Tivan was, and Kate looked over at Wade to pull a face — or at least, as much of a face as she could pull with the mask. It was fitted enough that it sort of allowed for expressions, like wide grins and dramatic faces..

"Evil wannabe dictatorial decorations. Think we found the place?" she asked in a whisper.

He smirked her way and pretended to think about it. "It's just so hard to tell. If only he was more obvious, somehow."

"Oh yeah, subtlety is the word here, for sure," she said, snorting out a laugh.

"I mean, are we sure we have the right address? We might need to double check. All the houses look the same," Wade continued, chortling.

Kate laughed outright at that and shook her head at Wade before she motioned him after her, and the two of them got to the fence surrounding the spacious grounds. It was at least ten feet high and was specifically designed with pointy ends on the top, and the two of them just looked at it for a moment, sizing it up.

"I've got one of those grappling arrows Tony made," Kate offered at last, digging in the quiver tied to her thigh.

"Do those arrows also come with cushioning so you don't get _stabbed_ once you get to the top?" Wade asked with a raised eyebrow. "Because I don't mind getting stabbed, but you might not like it so much."

"Do _not_ get stabbed, Wade," she instructed him with her finger leveled his way, though he just grinned at her, and she had to sigh and roll her eyes. "Whatever. Let's just double check and make sure it's not electrified before we climb it. I think we can clear the spikes once we get up there — they're not _too_ tall."

"Well, lead the way," Wade said with a wide and sweeping bow. "You _are_ the resident fence expert."

"You'd better believe it," she agreed with a laugh. "I've been besting fences since I was thirteen years old. This one's cake." She tapped it with one of her arrows. "Not even electrified like the one back in Twelve."

"Oooh, yes. Cassielang told me about that." Wade nodded seriously as he craned his neck to see the top of the fence. "What do you think, Better Hawkeye? Do you think if we had the great America Chavez with us, we could clear it?"

"She's not _that_ strong," Kate chuckled as she fitted her grappling arrow.

Wade gasped dramatically and covered his mouth with one hand. "Oh, you can't say things like that about _America Chavez_! You're lucky she's not around to hear and be insulted, missy!"

"You have been listening to Cassie _way_ too much," Kate said, rolling her eyes as her grappling hook caught on the top of the fence. "I'm _not_ scared of America."

"You should be," Wade said, tutting and waggling his finger in her face.

She rolled her eyes at him all over again, getting her whole body involved so that he was sure to know what she was doing even with the mask on. "Like I said, you've been listening to Cassie too much. She was barely twelve when she left Twelve. I'm sure America was much scarier to the tiny, tiny Cassie."

"That's true? But I know things, Katie-bug. She is an interdimensional kicker of butt."

Kate just gave Wade a _look_ for a long moment before she decided she just didn't want to even try to figure that one out and took to climbing over the fence. When she reached the top where the spikes were, she swung herself over in a graceful flip that Bobbi had taught her, and she only just snagged the corner of her black ops outfit as she went over — it didn't nick the skin, though, which was good. Hill and Essex had both been very specific about not leaving behind anything that could be used as genetic evidence, considering how very, very secretive the Tahiti program was.

She reached up and grabbed the piece of fabric she'd left behind and stuffed it in her pocket so she didn't leave any of that kind of evidence, either, and then she called over to Wade, "It's doable. You'll probably clear it better than I did, since I'm shorter."

Wade laughed at that. "Yes, but you did such a graceful flip, and now I feel like I have to _perform_ ," he teased before he started up the rope and, sure enough, performed a tricky kind of flip that took him closer to the spikes than he would have been if he'd just gone over normally. But then, Kate was pretty sure Wade didn't do anything normally.

When he dropped down on the other side of the fence beside her, he turned to her with a gymnastics salute and a little giggle. "What do you think, Better Hawkeye? 10/10?"

"I give it an 8.5," she said, shaking her head.

Wade put his hand over his heart and managed to look insulted with his entire body. "What? That was perfectly executed!"

"No — you didn't tuck in your knees properly. I've seen Clint do that move."

"Well. Acrobat. That's not a fair comparison," Wade said with a bit of a pout.

"No, he's not… he was a performance fighter."

"Circus brat," Wade sang out happily, and Kate shook her head at him.

"You're just making things up now."

"Oh, Better Hawkeye, I used to know just about everything there was to know about anything, and I still remember the important things. Like the perfection that is Kart, and the fact that you have an attraction to acrobats."

"If you say so," Kate said, rolling her eyes and deciding to just… move on.

Wade giggled at her for a second before the two of them made their way carefully over the grounds toward the large house.

The nice part about how ostentatiously Tivan had decorated his house and grounds was that there were plenty of hiding places, and on top of that, Coulson had gotten some good intel when he went to Tivan's place during the Games, which he was sure to include in their briefing material. They had a good idea of camera placement and a few other surprises to avoid, and both Kate and Wade were keeping a sharp eye out for anything that looked like hidden wiring or anything else that they might trip while they were out that wasn't included in their briefing material. There were plenty of hedges and sculptures as well as a huge fountain that they could hide behind, so they didn't have to worry about places to sneak, just about possible booby traps.

On the other hand, having so many decorations out on his grounds just meant that Tivan had more places to hide booby traps, and Kate gasped when Wade suddenly pulled her back and put a finger to his lips, gesturing to the fountain nearby as she saw now that, after she'd passed it by, one of the stones was starting to compress — there was no way she could have seen it until _after_ she walked beyond that point. She all but held her breath as she waited to see what would happen, and when part of the grass fell away an instant later, she looked over at Wade wide-eyed behind her mask.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he said in a low voice, his gaze clearly on the trap, which she saw now had spikes at the bottom of it that would have at the very least left her severely injured if not instantly dead. "This guy isn't playing around."

"No kidding," she muttered, sticking a bit closer to Wade as they finally got up to the house itself.

The place was more or less a fortress, with every window and door wired and cameras all around it — but this was where Wade came in handy. The two of them came up on one of the back windows, and Wade held up both of his hands as he clearly sized up the task ahead of him, making a little humming noise in the back of his throat before he nodded once and started to follow one of the wires back to its source.

"There you are!" Wade declared in a tone that suggested he had just found a child playing hide-and-go-seek before he took the very edge of his katana and cut one of the wires. He followed another few wires, this time to find the controls for the cameras inside and outside, and he placed one of Tony's inventions between the wires there before he turned to Kate. "Alrighty. Let's go exploring."

Kate grinned at him before she jimmied open the window, and the two of them climbed through into Tivan's very… weird home.

They'd both heard the rumors. Everyone knew that Tivan had a collection that was second only to Thanos' himself, because he always talked about that collection during the Games coverage, talking about the tributes and their 'looks' and what he could 'collect.'

But it was something else to see it in person. There were entire walls lined with shelves full of Games trinkets — but it was more than that. It looked like he had trinkets and baubles and _stuff_ from every district. The main room was dedicated to the most famous Games pieces, but when Kate opened one of the side doors, she was surprised to find that there were living specimens, cuttings of different plants from different districts, each neatly labeled and sorted according to where they came from.

"Well, they do call him the Collector," Wade said over her shoulder as he let out a low whistle on seeing the weird collection of plants. "See anything from home?"

Kate gestured at a plant on the end of a row of others. "Snowdrop, like the one Kurt got me," she said with a frown. "This place is _weird_ , Wade."

"Not as weird as some of the stuff I've seen," Wade admitted, and that got him a _look_ from Kate. "What? I used to be loony tunes, remember?"

Kate had to shake her head at the casual way Wade referred to what had happened to his mind. "As long as the weirdest stuff you saw was all in your head."

"There were bunnies, Better Hawkeye," Wade said, completely earnestly. "Bloody, bloody bunnies."

"I really don't want to know," Kate said, making a face behind her mask, though that wasn't the best of ideas, as she just got fabric in her mouth, and her tongue tasted like sweat now. She shook her head. "Just so long as we don't see anything like that _here_."

"You never know," Wade mused. "He's buddy-buddy with Thanos, after all."

" _Nobody_ is buddy-buddy with him," Kate pointed out, again making a face before she could remember to learn from her previous mistake, which just had her tasting sweat all over again.

"Well," Wade said, pausing to think about it. "That's true," he finally allowed. "But this guy is just about as close to it as you can get, not counting the kiddies."

"Who don't like him — at least from what I've heard." She had to smirk a bit. "Not that I can talk, though. I'm not exactly the poster child for getting along with my dad either."

"Ooh, yes, I heard about him too from Cassielang," Wade said with an enthusiastic nod. "He's a real big-wig mister-important-person, right?"

"Yeah, that's him," Kate said, wrinkling her nose. "Or at least, he _thinks_ he's important. He's still convinced there was some kind of conspiracy to keep him from being appointed mayor of the district — I guess he didn't kiss enough butts to get the job."

"Ooh, yeah, you dodged a bullet there, Katie-bug," Wade said with an exaggerated wince.

She shook his head at him and let out a sigh. "Come on — aren't we supposed to be cataloguing or something?"

"That we are, that we are," he agreed, nodding fervently as he followed her along. "Found — one room full of plants. What do you think he's got from this year's Games?"

"No idea," Kate said as she and Wade made their way through the collection, exploring shelves full of Games pieces. There was the hollowed-out tracker jacker nest that Jan and Hank had smoked out in their Games and then used the venom for Jan's darts. Pieces of Obadiah Stane's ironwork. And…

Kate stiffened when she saw it, and she almost ran right into Wade's arm when he threw it out to stop her from doing exactly what she had been about to do.

"That's _not his_ ," she all but hissed out as Wade blocked her from grabbing up the sword lying in a place of prominence, with bright blue ribbons wrapped around its hilt. It was clear that the ribbons were Kurt's originals, too, because there were brownish stains on them still that Tivan hadn't had washed out, likely to maintain the 'authenticity' of the piece in his collection.

Kate was all but shaking with rage on seeing it before Wade took her by both shoulders and spun her to face him. "C'mon, Katie bug. Let's finish up here, and then when we get back, we'll make sure to tell Miss Maria Hill that you call dibs on stabbing this guy with that sword right there," he said, gesturing to the sword. "But don't go picking things up in here. You know and I know they're totally booby trapped, and I really _really_ don't want you to end up like your Hawk-brother, okay?"

Kate glanced up at him, a bit surprised by the serious tone he had taken with her, before she just had to take a breath and nod. "That's just… that's not his," she muttered, her gaze on the ribbons. "Logan gave them back to Kurt. They should have stayed with him."

"Lots of things should have stayed with the kids in those Games," Wade pointed out, gesturing around the room at the various 'collectibles.' "Oooh, looks like he got Bruce Banner's notebook," he said, gesturing at a little book opened to a page that showed a crude sketch of a map, with a place marked on it that said "Banner Manor."

Kate looked over Wade's shoulder at the notebook and sighed out all her breath, shaking her head hard. "It's just... "

"Possessive? Dehumanizing? Creepy? An affront to decency and humanity itself?" Wade offered before he put a hand over his heart. "Welcome to the Capitol, Katie-bug — long may it reign."

Kate snorted a bit at Wade's antics and couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Yeah, I guess it's just different seeing it up close. Not like they show you much of the Capitol in the Games — I mean, there's some on TV, but Susan was always the one to watch that stuff."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Better Hawkeye," Wade said, patting her on the back. "We'll get rid of these mean nasties in no time at all, and then they'll learn their lesson for making you mad."

She couldn't help but laugh at that, though she shrugged off the hand on her shoulder. "You're ridiculous."

"And adorable," he said without missing a beat, now humming slightly to himself as they went through the rest of the collection. Thanos had of course kept the biggest pieces for himself — though Kate didn't know what those entailed. She just knew that Tivan had Kurt's sword, Bruce's notebook, Elektra's red cap, and…

"He-e-e-ey," Wade said in a bit of a whiny tone. "That's _mine_."

Kate looked to see where he was pointing and raised her eyebrows when she recognized the red mask he had worn in the Capitol and during the Games. "Don't touch it," she said automatically, and Wade actually chuckled at that.

"No, he can have it — I don't need it anymore," Wade said with a wave and a shrug. " _I'm_ more concerned about the fact that someone had to take that off this beautiful mug, and it was probably before Tahiti fixed me up all pretty." He shook his head solemnly. "That poor soul."

Kate smirked at bit and patted Wade's arm consolingly as they moved through the main room into a few others, cataloguing as they went and occasionally calling out to each other the strangest or most intriguing finds, like the Skull pin that Sin had worn in her parade or the M-shaped headpiece that Wanda had worn in the parade as well.

The weirdest part, actually, was when they found the entire closet full of outfits that were specifically patterned after looks worn by various tributes. It was literally just a closet full of parade outfits, almost exact replicas, and Kate and Wade just looked at each other, shook their heads, and shared a sort of shudder at that.

It took them longer than they thought it would to catalogue everything, so it was late when they made it to Tivan's office, which was surprisingly clear of much of the clutter of the previous rooms. Kate glanced at Wade when she saw the clean office and just frowned. "What do you think — booby trapped?"

"Oh, gotta be," he replied, his eyes wide as he nodded.

She frowned deeper at that and very carefully pushed forward, watching her step and keeping her eyes and ears peeled for any sign of a trap. The ornately-decorated desk was practically calling their names, but of course, that just had them both more cautious about it.

"Ten bucks says we find white hair dye," Wade whispered as Kate checked over the drawers for wires or anything else.

"You don't _have_ ten bucks, Wade," Kate pointed out.

"That's not true."

Kate popped her head up to look at him sideways for a second. "Where did you _get_ ten bucks?"

Wade drew himself up importantly. "Your Hawk-guy doesn't have to corner market on sneak thievery, Kate-bug."

She snorted and shook her head before she let out a little 'aha' on finding a wire running across the bottom of the desk. She followed it back to its source and had to wince at the voltage that she saw there. "Ooh, yeah, that would have done more than just knocked us out."

"Good thing I brought a Hawkeye with me then, huh?" Wade said as he looked over her shoulder at the electric box and then knelt down beside her as he got to work disabling it — which was a longer job than just cutting the wire, like he'd done for the sensors on the window they used to get in, but they wanted to leave as few traces as possible that they had been there.

While Wade worked on making sure that the desk wouldn't electrocute them when they tried to rifle through it, Kate looked over the rest of the room. If she hadn't just walked through a freaky collection to get to this place, she would have said it was just like any other office in Marvel, with bookshelves lining the walls and a big desk and his official commendations hanging in places of prominence.

Out of curiosity, Kate went to the bookshelf to see just what it was that this creepy Collector was interested in besides hoarding stuff that wasn't his. There were a few things that she would expect to see for a Capitolite — self-improvement and fashion and style books, that sort of thing. But the books on psychology were a surprise, especially because they focused on the effects of violence and on sadism.

And Kate wasn't so sure he just had those books because he covered the Games, either. She highly doubted it was just research so he could talk more in-depth about the tributes. Nobody cared about what the tributes felt as long as they put on a show — that much was blatantly obvious from the way her Games had gone down and the way Logan had been treated since winning.

Kate was frowning as she searched the bookshelves by then and reached what could probably have been considered a mythology section. Only… a lot of it was on necromancy and raising the dead.

"Hey… Wade?" Kate called out over her shoulder, and Wade came sauntering over.

"What's up, Katie-bug?" he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder as he looked over the books, though the fact that he fell silent after that told her that she was probably right to be concerned.

"How much do you think he knows?" Kate asked quietly.

"Clearly not enough if he's reading about summoning the dead from the great beyond," Wade said in as light a tone as he could manage. "I mean, _I_ don't feel like I'm an evil spirit summoned to do the work of the evil vampire who brought us back…. Oh, wait."

She snorted at that. "Ha, ha, very funny."

"No, I'm serious, Katie-bug. We should really look into this. We could be horrible demons!"

She shoved him in the arm, rolling her eyes hard. "Drama queen."

"I thought you _liked_ dramatic guys," he teased her before he gave her a little reassuring pat on the back. "He's just chasing rumors, or he would have more than only these creepy books. We'll get concerned if we find more in that desk over there."

"You're jinxing us."

"I am. I really, really am. And I'm so sorry about that," Wade agreed solemnly as he knelt down next to the desk and set to work on the electronic countermeasures. Kate just eyed the creepy bookshelves for a while before she slipped over to watch Wade work.

"Aaaand there we go," Wade said as he finally got the wires to the electronic box temporarily disabled. He popped up on his feet and sauntered over to plop himself down in the plush blue chair behind the ornate desk. "Alrighty, Mr. Tivan. Let's see what you've got hidden away in here." With that, he pulled open all of the drawers at once so that Kate could also look through them.

Kate was honestly surprised by what they found there, too.

It looked like Tivan had taken more than just a passing interest in several of the tributes, with files and files full of notes on them. It looked like Tivan was doing basically an amateur psych eval on each of them, looking for patterns.

"Ooh, look. He's got notes on you, Katie-bug," Wade said as he slid her a file, and Kate frowned, not sure that she wanted to know what Tivan thought about her.

But curiosity won out in the end, and she cracked open the file to look over images and stills from her Games, with handwritten notes in the margins. One in particular caught her eye — some notations on the parachute she had received in the Games in neat block handwriting that read: _Easily broken and manipulated_ — _prime candidate_.

Kate let out a little scoffing noise and scrunched up her nose, though the scoff was drowned out by Wade taking pictures of each page of notes with the mini camera they had been using to catalogue everything.

"You got a file too?"

"Nope," he said cheerfully.

"Lucky," she grumbled as she took out her own camera and started to take pictures of the pages and pages of notes.

It seemed like he was onto something, though he wasn't quite up to speed on what was _actually_ going on. But he was keeping track of any tributes that he felt would be 'easily manipulated' or 'broken'. Any tributes, basically, that he thought could be used as pawns.

It was clear that he didn't think the tributes were chosen randomly, and he had seen enough of the Games to start to wonder just what was driving the decisions behind the Reapings. He had several of this year's Tahiti tributes on his list, though he had a few on the list that hadn't been reanimated, like Anna Marie, and plenty from previous years that hadn't been reanimated simply because the process wasn't refined enough yet at that point to have that many kids.

They put the files back more or less the way they'd found them, and Wade made sure to fix the booby trap on the desk so that it would be set again when they left, and the two of them _finally_ made their way out of the creepy house.

"I'm not easily manipulated, am I?" Kate blurted out as soon as Wade had re-locked the office door behind them.

Wade glanced her way before he threw an arm over her shoulders and half hugged her reassuringly. "Nope, not even a little. You're way too stubborn for that, Better Hawkeye."

"But in the Games—"

"Games, Schmames," Wade said, waving his hand airily. "Nothing that happened in there matters, okay, Katie-bug? Well, except for the part where you and the bamf-master fell madly and deeply in love. That part is important."

Kate had to laugh at that as they made their way back to the window they're originally climbed in through. She was surprised to see how late it was — it was already getting dark, which meant they'd spend almost the entire day at Tivan's place. That was not exactly her idea of a good day out, but it at least meant that they were _done_. And it meant Hill had been right to give them the full three days for this mission. By the time they got back to the little rooftop where they had hidden out the night before, it would be well after dark, and everyone would be out and partying. Not the best time to try and make an escape — so they wouldn't be able to leave the area until the next day.

Seeing that it was dark outside had Kate's stomach growling, and she looked down at herself and had to shake her head. "Aww, stomach, no," she muttered, which had Wade chuckling a bit.

"I'll find us something appropriate for a victory dinner," he promised her out of the corner of his mouth as he followed the window wires back to where he'd left Tony's device so he could grab that too — so they didn't leave any trace of their presence except for one nicked wire on the window. "I can get away with showing off my pretty, pretty face, after all."

"That would be nice," Kate agreed, grinning his way as the two of them picked their way back through the grounds, definitely ready to leave Tivan's creepy house behind them and get something to eat.

* * *

 _District Eight's Capitol Suite_

* * *

The night had stretched into early morning, but the little group of stylists in Eight's suite had stayed right where they were, enjoying each other's company as much as was possible and worrying over the missing victors. Even though the focus was on Logan, Honey was still nervously glancing at the door waiting for Jess, too, even if she wasn't technically Jess' stylist.

"Do you do this at every party?" Noh asked, genuinely curious and worried when he saw that Honey was worrying herself into the slightest of bounces once the sun came up.

"Oh." She glanced his way and bit her lip. "Well, yeah. I know Jess has been a victor for a while … almost ten years! But she's just so _nice_ to me and my team, and I don't like seeing her… upset," she explained with a bit of a frown.

"So … this isn't just a one-year issue then," Jubilee said with a frown, looking more upset. "It can go on forever?"

Honey paused and bit her lip again — there were now marks where her teeth were because she'd been doing that most of the night. "Well, sometimes interest dips — or was never there, like for Tony Masters? But it's harder with girl victors because there are so few," she admitted. "But, like, Noh doesn't have to deal with it because Black Bolt's not really… I mean, he's sweet, but people don't _want_ him," she explained.

"Yeah, they don't want Creed or Groot either," Jubilee said with a wrinkled-up nose. "But for entirely different reasons."

"Yeah, well, maybe Seven will already have a reputation and they'll get tired of Logan soon, too," Honey offered hopefully. "He's not exactly Mr. Talkative or Mr. Snuggly."

"That's a lie," Jubilee said. "He is _so_ ."

"I doubt he will be so with these ... _patrons_ , though," Noh pointed out.

"Yeah, but … I can't really see him being nasty either, though," Jubilee said. "He's not … he's just not that way."

"He's a sweetheart," Honey said with a little smile. "He was really nice to me when we were dancing."

"He's a lot better dancer than I thought he'd be," Jubilee admitted just before the door to the suite opened and Jessica Drew slipped inside. She sort of looked around the room for a moment at the gathered stylists but didn't exactly try for friendly.

"Is this where everyone is meeting, then?" she asked as she dropped her shoes at the door.

"Do you mind?" Honey asked quickly. "It's just us and Logan."

"No, it'd be good for someone to try and catch him before he does something stupid," she replied. "Breakfast?"

"What would you like?" Noh asked, standing up to make his way toward the kitchen of the suite. "I'm best with pancakes, but I can make anything you like."

"He makes a mean omelette," Jubilee stage-whispered with a smile Jess' way.

"Whatever you feel like cooking is great," she said, then slipped off into her room to shower and change. When she came back out, Noh had gotten everything done, and she very gratefully took a cup of coffee with her into the living room to curl up with a blanket.

"Is this… normal?" Noh whispered to Honey, a bit surprised to see the normally friendly victor so blocked off.

"Yep," Honey said with a sigh. "Just leave her be — she'll come talk to you when she's ready."

Jess was into her second cup of coffee when Logan came in, glaring at all of them until he crossed the room and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He flat ignored anyone that tried to talk to him as he dropped clothes on his way to the shower, toting the bottle with him.

"I'll make sure he's got something clean to put on," Jubilee whispered loud enough for both the stylists and Jess to hear, and when Logan finally came back out, clean and dressed, the bottle was already missing a serious measure as he dropped onto the couch in silence.

Noh and Honey glanced at each other, Noh obviously in a silent question, but Honey just shrugged — she didn't know Logan well enough to know what to do here.

"It is up to you, but we have breakfast if you want it," Noh offered gently.

Logan looked up at him for a moment, let out a little irritated noise, got up to grab a coffee cup, then proceeded to fill it to the brim with scotch before he grabbed a piece of toast and sat back down, though he looked like he had no interest in the toast at all.

The three stylists all shared a look for a moment before Jubilee slipped over with her own mug — full of _coffee_ — and sat down beside Logan without a word, just _being_ there.

He glanced her way for a moment with a half-hearted glare, then offered her his hand, which she took and used to pull herself a bit closer and lay her head on his shoulder, her chin tipped up to watch him.

Logan only stared ahead of himself and drank like it was his job to get wasted as quickly as possible. So Jubilee settled in, her feet up on the table in front of them as she tried to get comfortable for the duration of however long he kept this up.

The suite in Eight was fairly silent for a while until, finally, Jess looked up from her coffee and blanket and seemed to set her shoulders and head over to where Logan and Jubilee were. "Mind if I join you?" she asked — producing her own bottle, since Logan's was nearly empty.

He glared her way for a minute. "Your room. Do whatever the hell you want to."

She frowned for a moment and then let out a sigh as she poured some whiskey for herself and for Logan. "There's more in the cabinet, but there's another party tonight, so maybe pace yourself."

"I don't want or _need_ your advice, Drew," he replied through gritted teeth, though he didn't look her way at _all._

She sighed and leaned back in her seat, keeping half an eye on Logan, though she didn't leave, either. The two stylists left in the room shared a glance before they too joined the quiet little group, with Honey and Noh sharing Noh's headphones and keeping an eye on their friends as best they could — which seemed to be the name of the game.


	32. One Wrong Move

**Notes: Here begins the second day in the Capitol. Yeah, we've slowed down our pace considerably for the victory tour, with multiple chapters spanning a single day, but there is important stuff happening here that we gotta be sure to cover, so…**

* * *

 **Chapter 32: "One Wrong Move"**

* * *

 _January 14_

 _Capitol Neighborhoods_

* * *

"This whole place is basically one big death trap," Sin complained to Steve as one of Schultz's electrical traps _just_ missed her by such a small margin they could both smell singed fabric. She had her body pressed up against the wall to avoid being electrocuted, but it had been a near miss.

Steve had to nod his agreement. His right arm was still numb from where the so-called Shocker's traps had hit his shield. While the metal his shield was made of was certainly good for deflecting things like bullets, it was also a very good conductor. They were making their way through the list of trainers and making pretty good time about it, but that didn't mean they weren't running into their share of problems as well.

Of course, if Steve remembered Schultz correctly, the fact that his place was booby-trapped wasn't even necessarily a sign that he knew they were coming. He seemed like the kind of guy who just enjoyed setting traps like that just to _make_ the traps in the first place.

"Yeah, no kidding," he muttered as he regarded the door to the next room warily. He didn't want to get another shock, but he didn't _see_ any wires, so it might be safe…He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, the relief flooding him when nothing actually happened. "I'll be happy when we're out of here."

"You and me both, Cap," Sin agreed fervently, poking her head around the open door with no small amount of suspicion as she took in the room before she finally decided it was safe enough to very, very carefully sneak her way in.

Thankfully, besides the traps, they hadn't really found anything _too_ awful in this guy's place, not like in Lukus' place, which was just… well, basically one big ode to death and violence. Steve wasn't sure what SHIELD was thinking letting some of these people near kids, especially vulnerable kids who were about to head off to their deaths in the Games — but then, he had been so focused on trying to learn everything he could to survive at the time that he hadn't noticed exactly how mentally unbalanced half of the training staff was.

It was no wonder SHIELD wanted to keep a closer eye on these guys.

"Hey, Cap, gimme a boost?" Sin called out as she pulled a camera from her bag, and Steve crossed the room to meet her, offering her a boost up, since they were both wary of using the furniture in this place since the first time Sin tried to stand on a chair to get a good angle for a higher-up camera and ended up getting a bad enough shock that it took her to the floor, though it wasn't bad enough that it knocked her out.

"That's the last of them, right?" Steve said, grunting a bit when Sin put her foot on his hip on her way down to keep her balance.

"Should be," Sin agreed. She looked up at the placement of the last camera for a moment, seeming to size up whether or not it was placed to her satisfaction before she nodded and grabbed Steve by his working arm. "Come on — let's take a quick break. I'm starving, and you need to lay off that arm for a bit."

"I'm fine," Steve protested, but that just got Sin to turn to him with a look that she somehow managed to convey with her entire body, turning on her heel and twisting at the hips to get the full effect.

"I'm _not_ going to face any more of these death traps with a partner who's only half capable of backing me up," Sin said in a tone that brokered absolutely no argument.

Steve shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, but he had to admit that Sin did have a point. And as they climbed out of Schultz' place, his arm was tingling as the feeling started to come back, and he let out the slightest of hisses when he jostled it a bit.

"Yeah, you're no good to me like this," Sin said matter-of-factly.

"Your concern is touching," Steve said through his teeth.

"I'm not Ororo. I'm not gonna baby you."

"Ororo doesn't baby me," Steve defended.

"Then I don't know what you're expecting from me," Sin said with a shrug as the two of them climbed up to the roof of a nearby building to get their bearings and take a breath for a moment. Sin watched Steve for a while out of the corner of her gaze before, finally, she asked, "Do you want me to take a look at that?"

"I told you — I'm fine."

"Hey," she said sharply, her hands on her hips. "I just want to know if we have to call off this part of the mission and get your sorry butt to medical attention, okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Uh-huh." Sin just responded by grabbing Steve by the arm, and when he winced at the pinpricks traveling up and down his arm, she gave him a _look_. "Yeah, you look real fine to me."

"The feeling's starting to come back," he told her.

"Oh, _that_ makes me feel better," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Really. It just feels like my whole arm fell asleep. It's just pins and needles right now."

Sin watched him for a moment, frowning, before she finally had to nod. "Fine, but if it doesn't stop being pins and needles, we're gonna have to get that looked into."

"You won't get any arguments from me there," Steve promised her, following her to the spot they'd picked out as a hiding spot for the time being before he leaned back against the brick wall of the building beside them and took in a deep breath. "Yeah, it's coming back."

"He got you good," Sin said, now with a smirk that he could hear in her voice even if the mask covered it.

"He really did," Steve agreed, shaking out his arm a bit before he had to glance at Sin. "What's got you suddenly all warm and fuzzy?"

"I'm _not_ ," Sin said, and to prove her point, she crossed her arms over her chest and did her very best pout.

"Alright, alright. I wasn't trying to mess with your image," Steve said, holding up both hands, but he was laughing, and that just seemed to annoy Sin even more.

"I'm _not_ ," she insisted again.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with admitting you've been making _friends_ since you woke up. I mean, I've seen you and Pepper, and the way you are with Bruce even when he's angry—"

"Shut up, Steve," she half growled out, as Steve just smirked to himself but let the argument fall.

* * *

The second night of parties, several of the victors met up right at the start before they'd even arrived, and this time, those that were officially paired up were already with their assigned partners, so Quill was in a place he really didn't want to be — far too close to not only Gamora but her brother, Ronan, as well.

The entire royal family had turned out for the festivities, though when Logan and Jubilee showed up and the new victor didn't look entirely shell-shocked, several higher-ups took notice. Jubilee looked a bit nervous, but Logan just had a locked jaw 'come at me' approach going on that was all but begging for someone to try and start something with him.

"Well, that's disappointing," Ronan said in an undertone to Gamora, shaking his head. "I had wondered what broken looked like on him, and now I see it isn't so easy. It's a pity that I'm denied the chance to do it myself under the cursed _rules_."

"I think it's refreshing," Gamora countered in half a purr. "He has a little fight. Keeps things interesting."

"You've always been too soft on them," Ronan said with a pointed look at Quill, who clearly wanted no part in this conversation and was desperately pretending to be deaf as a post.

"You just don't understand how to play with our toys outside your own sandbox," Gamora replied easily and with one hand on Quill's waist without looking his way. "No imagination."

"I think my playmates might disagree with you, sister," Ronan replied smoothly.

"You limit yourself to _physical_ suffering," Gamora replied with an easy smile as, to prove her point, she took Quill's arm and leaned her chin on his shoulder and drank in the look on his face when she kissed the base of his jaw.

"Clearly," Ronan replied with a little smirk that he couldn't quite hide before he turned his gaze out toward the party again. "Still, perhaps the festivities will be more interesting tomorrow instead. We should give Selene a chance to up the ante."

"Oh, I hope she does," Gamora said with a pleased sort of sigh. "Last year was such a disappointment. So quickly startled and jumpy at the slightest touch after the first night. Far too easy."

While the two of them were gloating and generally freaking out Quill with every word he overheard, some of the 'unattached' victors were making a concerted effort to find Jubilee and Logan. As soon as she did, Jess slid into the seat on the other side of Logan when she saw that they'd found a table.

"I can steal him for a dance if you want to find your blue friend," Jess said, addressing Jubilee instead of Logan to try and break into their quiet conversation gently.

"Do you mind terribly?" Jubilee said with a hopeful look on her face. "He's supposed to be here with Honey and GoGo somewhere." She was already standing up and looking for them, and when Jess nodded with a little smile, Jubilee gave her a grateful grin and dashed off.

Jess watched her go for a moment before she offered Logan her hand. "Come on — if we pretend to be caught up in conversation, she might get two or three dances with her man, too."

"Won't work," Logan said, shaking his head as he tipped his glass back. "Got nothin' to say to you."

"Then I'll talk, but you can't just sit here or people will notice you're not with Jubes," she pointed out.

"Yeah? Who're you afraid might notice?" he asked, leaning back and putting one arm over the back of his chair. .

"Anyone with ties to the media or Selene's business," Jess said shortly. "Or hadn't you noticed there's an entire party's worth of eyes on you?"

"Might not want to be too closely associated then, Drew."

"I pick my own friends," she shot back.

"Any of them have a say in it?"

"I like to think they're drawn by my magnetic personality," she countered with her chin thrust forward just the slightest bit.

"Maybe you should go find one then."

Jess frowned at him. "You really don't need to be by yourself."

"If what you said's true, someone'll be pesterin' me before long anyhow. What difference does it make to you anyhow?"

"We're trying to minimize damage here, Logan."

"That's gotta be the stupidest thing I've heard yet," he snapped back. "How the hell do you plan to minimize anything? And what kind of damage?"

"Well for one, the damage to your liver," she said with a glare she couldn't quite pull back. "Not to mention the kind of damage the Capitol is _trying_ to inflict. The psychological warfare. You know the drill — break you down and isolate you. Seems to be working perfectly on you." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Seems to me it's already worked on all of you," he said as he got to his feet. "So why should I let the blind lead the blind if I want any different?"

"It _hasn't_ worked on all of us," Jess insisted, standing up a little taller to glare down at him.

"Right. That's why Quill's quakin' in his boots and all the people in forced _relationships_ look so with it, right? You think I missed the look on Sam's face yesterday when Selene cornered him? Or the way Bobbi was on the edge of a panic all night? Not one of you's even tried to figure out how to give it back to that witch? Even _together_ you got nothin?"

"You think we haven't tried?" she shot back, her voice in a dangerously low whisper.

"If you did, you sure as hell didn't try hard enough. Not where it counts to her."

"There are other considerations."

"Yeah, I'm sure I'll find out the hard way again on whatever other secrets you want to keep to yourself," he countered before he growled her way. "You're just as sadistic as they are."

Her eyes flashed at the accusation, and it took a moment for her to breathe in a calmer expression. "What did you want me to do, Logan? Risk the people Selene has on _me_?" she shot back in that same deadly whisper.

"A _warning_ from someone I thought I could trust would have been nice," he said evenly. "Better than getting broadsided. Might have managed to at least keep Jubes out of it that way, and I'd have given you that much if the shoe was on the other foot."

"I didn't know she was going to threaten her," Jess told him honestly. "With Hunter and the others, they're just going along to take care of their victors and keep us safe from retaliation. No one knew she was going to go after your sweet little firecracker."

"So why the extra push with me then?" he asked. "Knowin' Jubes, she'd have gone along without putting Noh's head on the line."

Jess frowned and tipped her head at him for a moment. "I think you pissed her off," she said at last.

"Too bad for her I'm just getting started," he promised.

"Last time you pissed her off, she went after your stylist. And you really want to know why we're telling you to keep an eye out and play it close to the vest?"

"Drew, from where I'm standing, all playin' it close has done is keep you where she wants you. I'm not going to stand here and let her work me over. She's gettin' it back. You don't win a fight just hopin' the other guy quits hitting you."

"There are other players to hit right now," she said low.

"Sure there are," he said in an almost consoling tone. "You still want to act like you want to be near me for a dance or should I pick up some random girl hangin' around?"

She met his gaze for a good long time before she replied, "You know where to find me if you get tired of the fangirls."

"Right. That woulda been about two seconds into the first damn interview. You just keep playin' it close waiting for your next appointment," he said with a little smirk that read all kinds of trouble, though he didn't make it a handful of steps before Sarkissian of all people seemed to appear out of nowhere and whisk him off onto the dance floor where she could bend his ear.

"One night and already a falling out with Eight's star victor. That must be a record. It usually takes her longer to alienate people with her games," Sarkissian said with a breathy laugh.

Logan let out a little sigh and closed his eyes for just a moment. "If you're going to gloat over something you had exactly jack and shit to do with, we're going to have a falling out of our own right now."

"Quite the contrary. I was just coming to offer my condolences. That particular group has _no_ sense of urgency when dealing with the _real_ problems."

"Which are what, exactly?" he asked. "Or are you going to pull the same line of it's a secret, because I got no damn patience for that crap."

"It's no secret," she laughed. "You met all of them yourself last night — or when you were crowned. It's no mystery either. You can see for yourself they've been allowed to run free." She leaned in with laughter in her eyes for a moment. "Why do you think I've been researching poisons that leave the bloodstream quickly and leave no trace?" she added in a low, deadly, near-hiss of a whisper.

Logan turned her way with one eyebrow raised as he thought it over. "What's she got on you?"

"Oh, I don't have anyone," she said before she leaned in closer. "But she can make it _difficult_ to get my hands on what I _need_ for my studies and close off avenues to my ventures that I'd rather would remain open. And she provides a list of willing bodies for testing my poisons," she added in that same low whisper, clearly amused with herself.

"I thought your poisoning days were behind you," he said, just watching her grin as she talked about her 'studies'.

"Far from it," she said with little wave. "Like I said — Drew and her little kindergarten group can play all they like, but _I_ plan to _do_ something about it."

"So why haven't you already?" he asked, though Viper didn't seem to realize how much she had his hackles raised.

"I may be talented, but I can't reach everyone at once," she replied easily as she leaned in closer. " _Unfortunately_ , I do have to make some alliances. And they are frustratingly slow."

"Then I'm sorry to hear that," he replied. "Always seems the ones that need to die just ... don't."

"Sad but true," she agreed with a breathy sigh. "But between the two of us, I have a particularly nasty one in mind for Selene. She interferes with me far too often to be allowed to continue."

"While I wish I could say that I'd be of use to your plan, poison really ain't my style," he told her frankly.

"Oh, I'm sure we can work together some other way," she said with a wide smile.

Logan smirked at Viper for a moment then glanced past her to take in the collective look of controlled panic that had taken over Jessica Drew and her little clutch of friends. "Must make you feel prhat do _you_ want me for?"

"I told you — I have alliances, but they are _slow_. However, I think, if I had a little more muscle…" She looked him up and down. "They could be convinced to speed things along. They're not exactly fans of poison either, sad to say. Neanderthals."

"Not everyone likes it subversive, darlin'. Some of us prefer they know exactly where it came from."

"Believe me, when they writhe in pain with your name on their lips, they know," she said with a wicked smile.

etty good to have them looking like that," Logan said as they spun across the dance floor. "So w

He frowned and pulled back the slightest before he gave her a nod. "I'm sure," he said just before the song ended. "But I'm not nearly drunk enough to keep up my cheerful disposition for a conversation like this." He tipped his head her way for just a moment and left her behind, though he was sure to slip off opposite Jessica and the rest of the group.

Jubilee was with all the lady stylists, so he figured she was probably keeping off of Selene's radar for now, which just gave him a chance to refill on his whiskey and try to figure out how to avoid both Jessica and Sarkissian, since they both wanted to talk in riddles and he didn't have the patience for it at all.

Logan was halfway through the double when Selene slipped up next to him with a smile and rested one hand on his shoulder. "You're holding up better than I thought you would."

He just turned slowly to glare at her before he shrugged her hand off of him. "I'm sure that's not something anyone's ever said to you. If they did, they lied," Logan said evenly before he looked her up and down with a look of clear distaste. "Is it too early in this … _negotiation_ to tell you to go to hell?"

"You already said you think of me as a soul-sucking witch, so I think that's about par for the course for you," she said, the smile a bit stretched now.

"You're not worth the energy to come up with something better so we'll just stick with that. Especially since you're not arguing it." He finished off his drink before he squared up with her a little bit. "So what do you want now?"

"Relax," she said soothingly as she fiddled with his suit, though he held his ground and narrowed his eyes. "I'm only here to tell you who your next patron is since you played along so nicely last night, and have been putting up _such_ a good front tonight. Do try and smile at this one."

"Let's make one thing crystal clear, you treacherous hag," Logan said with a growl lacing his tone as he leaned in close to her. "I'm not smiling for anyone you send my way. _Ever_."

She sighed. "Well, you _are_ holding up well. The second night I don't usually get nearly this kind of... awareness." She tipped her head to indicate a group of well-to-do Capitolites. "The redhead in the center," she said.

He glared at Selene hard before he glanced where she was indicating. Knowing ahead of time certainly didn't make it any better. But if this was a game ... "Not too bad this time, I suppose." A heartbeat passed and he smirked a bit — the trouble dancing in his eyes as the bones of a plan started to fall into place. "Got any blondes?"

"I don't take requests," she said icily.

He knew he hit a nerve and gave her half of a smile as he leaned in close again. "You might regret that," he said at nearly a whisper. "Unless it's not really the money you're after, but just being a sadistic piece of shit."

She just held his gaze for a moment before she matched his whisper. "Your nights have been planned for months. This isn't your game. Don't hurt yourself trying to play it."

"I have no intention of hurting _myself_ ," he replied. "That might break the deal."

"Ah, he can be taught." She smiled sweetly.

"You have _no_ idea," he shot back with a crooked smile of his own that had her uneasy for the first time in years before he brushed her off and walked away, leaving her behind and fully intending on making Moira's job difficult when the time came for her to lead him off again.

* * *

It had taken Kestrel the better part of four hours to figure out where all the outer defenses and traps were around the palace. It was far more heavily fortified than what they'd anticipated it to be.

Lasers and motion detectors were a given. As were the scores of armed guards with heavy weaponry. What was interesting though was the trigger plates that were scattered through the lawn surrounding the palace — and how much of a hair trigger some of them had.

He had to cringe when he observed a small owl as it perched — or more accurately, tried to perch — on part of the wall, only to explode a moment or two later in a poof of feathers.

It seemed that even the most benign-looking of decor around the place had the potential to be deadly.

What he was more interested in at this point was the defenses _inside_ the palace. He weighed it out for at least the last hour that he was there observing — whether or not he should go inside, but the fact of the matter was that if he should try that and set something off, not only would he be killed on the spot, but whatever progress their rebellion had made would be in stark jeopardy.

With a muttered curse, Kestrel simply backed off slowly and made his way back to base with all that he had to report.

* * *

Quill had finally been released from his 'woman' and had made a beeline for the quietest, darkest bar in the vast room. It was in a far corner, well removed from the party, the noise, and any interest. It was really there more for the support personnel than the guests, but … Peter had gotten more than enough attention from the party already, and he just wanted to get _away._

He'd barely gotten his drink in front of him before Fury and Coulson sat down on either side of him, just waiting for what he had to report.

"Having fun with the little lady?" Fury asked in an amused sort of way as he kept a wary watch over the crowd.

"Oh yeah, loads of fun," Peter said in his most sarcastic tone, sulking into his rocks glass. "Real barrel of laughs."

"We're starting to get questions coming in on when the two of you plan to get engaged," Coulson said with a perfectly straight face as he kept his gaze forward even though he desperately wanted to see the expression on Quill's face for that.

He wouldn't have seen much anyway, though, because Peter's response was simply to lean forward and rest his head on the edge of the bar. "Oh God."

"It's a natural progression," Fury reasoned, totally in on the gag. "So I'm going to need your impression of things before the nuptials occur and you find your alliances forcibly altered."

"My impression?" Peter picked his head up and looked at Fury incredulously. "That woman is _insane_. And so's the whole family. And I won't be far behind if … oh, man." He put his head back down on the bar and made a very, very sad, pitiful-sounding noise.

Fury smirked a bit toward Coulson and had to shake his head. "If that's the best you can do, we'll have to wait for the firstborn to wire him."

"I hate you both," he said into the bar, without moving more than what was necessary.

Coulson couldn't help but snicker at that since, clearly, Quill didn't see Fury's smirk or catch the incredibly dry joke. "Okay, we'll hold off on the announcement if you can tell us what they were talking about. I know you hate this assignment, but you're stuck for now. At least until Gamora gets tired of you."

"Tell the new kid to watch his back," Peter said finally, sitting up a bit as he let out a big breath. "Ronan was _disappointed_ he can't play with the victors. Creep." He gave a little dramatic shudder at that. "But Gamora seemed interested. And I honestly don't know which is worse."

"Well one of those might get you off the hook," Coulson said, still smirking.

"Yeah, well, don't go thinking you'd have an ear in with him. He's being … him."

"I thought Drew had that covered," Coulson said.

"Yeah? You must have missed the part where Sarkissian was hanging on him. Or the falling out he had with Jess — Gamora thought _that_ was _highly_ entertaining, by the way."

"Gamora thought an argument with Drew was entertaining?" Fury said. "That … is troublesome."

"Yeah, the royal family isn't as stupid as we like to think they are. Nebula's downright suspicious of Jess and Bobbi, but some of that might be jealousy." Quill shrugged. "According to her sister, anyway. Hard to tell with those two what's drama and what's life and death sometimes."

"And Sarkissian? Where do they stand with her?" Fury asked.

"Ronan would like to work her over after he's had a shot at Logan, honestly. I think he has a list and he's just waiting for the president to decide he's bored with having victors alive and well. You know. Relatively speaking." Peter made a horrible face and threw back what was left in his glass before he leaned forward and took the whiskey bottle from behind the bar, pouring himself a new measure.

"Then we should just hope that Thanos decides he likes the new guy. At least for a while," Coulson said. "How the hell do we do that?"

"Seeing as he's picking fights? Shouldn't be too hard. The big guy likes a good fight, right?" Peter offered.

"He _was_ pleased with how Logan ended the Games," Fury said with a nod. "That last day was impressive."

"Yeah, I've heard. Gamora likes to remind me how _my_ tribute died in that mess. I think she thinks it's funny," Peter grumbled as he threw back his glass.

"Who's Howlett picking a fight with tonight anyhow?" Fury asked, looking out over the crowd to try and spot his newest charge.

"There was Jess earlier. And Ronan had a laughing fit at Selene's face when he told her where to stick it. Which is unsettling. Have you ever heard him laugh? It's kind of terrifying. I am not drunk enough for this."

"No," Coulson said with a bit of a shocked tone. "I didn't think he could laugh."

"Me neither," Peter admitted as he refilled his drink.

"What does he think he's going to accomplish with Selene?" Fury asked. "That's … not anything that can even be addressed. It's supposed to be unbreakable."

"Believe it or not, he didn't tell me that part," Peter said as he took another long drink and suppressed a shiver.

"Well that can't be good," Coulson said.

"You might wanna talk to him. He doesn't seem to wanna talk to any of us anyhow," Peter said. "Not after we ...inadvertently let Selene blindside him." He topped off his drink before he looked to Coulson and Fury on either side of him. "Now if you don't mind, I am going to get plastered before my 'girlfriend' comes back."

"Good luck," Coulson said as he clapped a hand on Quill's shoulder. "Hopefully, she doesn't decide all the entertainment makes for a good time to consummate the relationship."

"Please stop. You're going to jinx it and make it happen, and there is not enough alcohol in this world for that."

"Come on, Quill," Fury said with a smirk. "You know they have drugs to make sure you can be up to snuff."

"Please, please stop." Quill just shook his head and threw back another drink. "Remind me why I work for you sadists."

"Because the other sadists are way more sadistic," Coulson said.

"Oh right." Quill waved them both off and got back down to his mission to get as drunk as possible.

* * *

This was truly Loki's element.

He should have been born a Capitolite. The elegants parties were lavish, yes, but the way these people made words their weapons was much more to his tastes and talents.

In the time since he had awakened in Dr. Essex's clutches, he had grown about a foot and lost much of his boyish roundness around his face. A new haircut, clothes, and a decent diet later, and he was all but unrecognizable, so long as he kept away from any SHIELD agents.

And really, it wasn't too difficult. He was assigned to a party mostly attended by politicians, so there wasn't much need for avoidance. He simply had to pick a group of them and ingratiate himself into their conversations.

They were really so easy. Self-important, obsessed with achievement and ambition. Not unlike himself, though for the moment, his ambition was… limited. He was of course glad to be alive, surprised and pleased, even, but this forced servitude was far too high a price to pay for something that he never asked for.

Still, at least that infuriatingly controlling Essex had the presence of mind to be sure to use his talents. He shuddered to think what would have happened if the man had tried to train him to the tune of some of the others in his care.

Oh yes, Loki knew about the others. He knew that one was once a member of his own Career team, because he had seen Clint Barton with the look on his face that he reserved only for his district partner, roaming the halls of Loki's prison with the psychologist, Charles Xavier. Of course Romanoff would require his aid, after all that he had done to prod along the spiral she was already tipping toward when she entered the arena.

Essex liked to think he was clever, but Loki had used many of those very tricks himself. The threat of death and torture was of course enough to keep Loki at his heels, but as for the rest, well… Loki was no fool, but he had a feeling the others in his prison were, especially if both Barton and Romanoff had been brought back to life.

Surprisingly, Loki hadn't seen any sign of his brother. He supposed that was because of the pyre destroying all evidence of the once-proud Thor, but surely a body double would suffice…

He pushed the thought away, unwilling to dwell on it any further. He had already spent too much time alone in his cell thinking on it, and he wouldn't allow it to consume him. He could consider all this later, when he was done jumping through the hoops required of him by his current masters.

So for the time being, he would mingle with the politicians and mark their names, keep track of where they went. One of the others would be along behind him to put an end to the ones that needed ending — he was just the advance intelligence.

No need to get his hands dirty — the others could do that well enough.


	33. Double-Sided

**Notes: And moving on toward the end of everyone's time in the Capitol. Yes, we know, there's a lot going on. We got a pretty big cast of characters to balance out here, and plenty of stories to tell ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 33: "Double-Sided"**

* * *

 _July 15_

 _The Capitol_

* * *

The cameras had finally stopped flashing in Bobbi and Hunter's direction, and once she were sure that the paparazzi was gone, the make-believe couple finally slipped to opposite ends of the loveseat they'd been occupying in far more intimate a manner than either were strictly comfortable with.

"So," Hunter said as he straightened himself up. "Who's the bloke?"

Bobbi looked over his way with one eyebrow raised as she pressed down the edges of her sweater. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said with a prim little smile.

"Yeah?" he said, eyebrows raised as he watched her. "Who's this Clint then? Not a name normally given to young ladies."

She looked honestly surprised as she turned his way. "Where'd you hear that name?"

"You called me Clint," he said. "Couple minutes ago."

"I did?" She shook her head, flushing a little pink. "Tell me nobody else heard it."

"It was quiet, so I don't think that's a problem," he said with a little smirk. "Does he at least treat you right?"

"Goes out of his way to, actually," she said, relaxing her shoulders now that she knew she hadn't screwed up the secret for something as stupid as a good kiss.

"Good," he said, nodding. "Must be nearly as sneaky as you if no one's caught wind of it yet."

"Not really. But I'm plenty sneaky for ... well, just about anyone," she said with a grin.

"That you are," he agreed, still smirking her way before he offered her his hand. "But we should probably get you back so you can get some rest before the next round of parties."

"What, do I look tired?" she couldn't help but tease, even as she let him pull her to her feet.

"No, you look fabulous," he said with a grin. "But you must be tired to slip like that."

"Must be," she said with a little nod. "And maybe a little too heavy with the drinking. Our new victor is fun to keep up with."

"You'll end up in medical trying to keep up with that one," he said dryly.

"He'd be the first one to outdrink me," she replied with a little smirk before she just gave his arm a little squeeze. "Do me a favor and pretend I didn't lose my sneak. That's just embarrassing."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Miss Morse," he said with his chin tipped up and a little frown.

"Atta boy," she said before she gave him a quick hug and slipped into the elevator - bound not for Two's suite, where she'd have to deal with Masters and Sarkissian, but for Eight to find Jess.

It was late enough in the morning that Jess was no longer tucked in with her blanket and coffee, though Bobbi had expected to find Logan there as well, not just the group of three stylists who seemed to have moved into Jess' place, apparently.

"He still out?" Bobbi asked quietly as she dropped into the seat next to Jess.

"I have no idea," she replied with a little sigh. "He may have just copped an attitude and … who knows, honestly. The guy's on a mission to hurt himself, I think."

Bobbi frowned at that and glanced over at Jubilee, Noh, and Honey, who were half watching the door themselves. "But his stylist is here."

"Only because she's afraid to go back to Seven and run into Creed alone," Jess pointed out. "Not that I blame her."

"Yeah, no kidding," Bobbi said, pulling a face before she just reached over to steal Jess' mug of coffee for herself. "So," she said once she'd had a good long drink. "I'll be laying off the champagne tonight. Might've had too much last night."

"It finally happened, huh? What's the fallout?" Jess asked with a smirk.

"It's stupid," she said, waving her hand, though she had the faintest pink blush across her cheeks. "Called Hunter the wrong name."

"Wait. _What_?" Jess said, sitting up straighter and re-folding her legs under herself. "What did you call him? And _why_?"

"The why's easy. Too much to drink, and I wasn't thinking," Bobbi said, waving her hand. "It won't happen again. The who…" She leaned forward a bit. "You remember the kid from my district?"

Jess's eyes widened as she leaned forward in pure disbelief. "The cute blonde? _No_. You did _not_."

"He's a sweetheart, really," Bobbi said with a little smile.

"Bobbi."

"Oh, like you've never broken the rules before," Bobbi waved her off.

"I didn't say that — but … come on. _Really?_ " Jess just started to smile before she gathered herself up and leaned Bobbi's way. "What did Hunter say?"

"He just wanted to know if the new guy was treating me right."

"Awww, you've got the best fake boyfriend."

Bobbi rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Jess."

"Seriously. He didn't even get upset? That's _quality_ friend-zoned fake boyfriend." She was starting to laugh a bit at the situation — entirely because she couldn't exactly relate to it.

Bobbi reached over and shoved Jess lightly in the shoulder. "Like he doesn't date around while I'm gone."

"Has he ever called you someone else's name?" Jess whispered with a wide grin.

"That is _not_ the point here, Jess," Bobbi said, more than a little bit flustered. "The point is I blew my sneak — so less alcohol tonight, alright?"

"We should probably try to institute that on our new friend. You know. If we can get him to talk to us." Jess let out a breath. "I have a feeling something bad is going to happen otherwise. Especially when he's all ….. _Fight me_ like he's been doing."

"Particularly if he's not here with his little entourage." Bobbi gestured at the group of stylists. "Why are they here again? Are you collecting them?"

"Apparently I am," Jess agreed. "It's not safe for Jubilee to go to Noh's floor without setting off alarm bells, and if they come here, then they're officially 'double dating'. Honey Lemon is stepping in as Noh's fake girlfriend. As the story goes. But it doesn't work too well when our Seven victor is missing."

Bobbi rubbed her forehead for a moment. "This is just _way_ too complicated. What's he even up to anyway?"

"He didn't tell Jubilee. And he's not talking to me. So I have no idea."

"What'd you do? I thought you two were making headway," Bobbi said with a frown.

Jess let out a sigh and leaned further back, resting her head on her arms as they were folded over the side of her chair. "He got mad at _all of us_ because I didn't warn him about what Selene's game was — and neither did anyone else. She was _thrilled_ to be the one to break it to him."

"Ah." Bobbi drained the rest of Jess' coffee and just frowned. "That explains a lot."

"He's being openly hostile with her," Jess continued. "He's not even trying to fake it for anyone."

"That's not going to last," Bobbi observed. "He makes the wrong people mad, and your slumber party is going to be severely under-attended."

"Well, that's the interesting thing," Jess said as she leaned in to share her little tidbit of gossip. "According to Peter, Ronan was watching the two of them go back and forth and was _entertained_ by Selene's frustration."

Bobbi sat up a bit straighter, her eyebrows up in her hairline. "Now that's a twist."

"No kidding. It sounds like there might be a disconnect between Selene and the royals that _no one_ knew about."

"It's definitely worth exploring," Bobbi said thoughtfully. "If that's the case, _we_ can probably exploit it, I'm sure. I'd much rather have them going after each other than us."

"Of course, Logan has no idea. He's just trying to tweak her. I just … I don't know what he can _do._ " She shook her head slowly. "All the angles have already been looked over. There just … is _no way_ to win it."

"Well, whatever it is, it's clearly working if it's got Ronan interested." Bobbi shook her head. "I'll have to keep a better eye out tonight. I was working Masters and Osborne last night, so I _clearly_ missed the show."

"Yeah, _and_ the part when he went dancing with Viper too," Jess said.

Bobbi sat upright. "He did not."

"He did. Just before he _leaned in_ on Selene and left her fuming."

"He was that close. To _both_ of them. _Why_." It almost wasn't a question but an expression of pure distaste as Bobbi looked over at Jess.

Jess just shrugged both shoulders up to her ears and shook her head slowly. "He's not talking to me, and judging by the time? He's not coming."

Bobbi let out a sigh at that and picked her feet up off the edge of the couch. "I can find out. You know Viper's gotta be pleased about things right now."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"So all I have to do is walk inside my suite and I'll have your answer," Bobbi said, though she didn't look too excited by the prospect.

"Just … tell me he didn't go back to _her_ suite and we'll be fine. I don't think the boss would be happy with that at all."

"Yeah, that's a big fat 'no.'" Bobbi shook her head and set the mug down on the counter as she headed for the door. "Hey, kids," she called toward the stylists. "Break it up — your fourth isn't coming."

"I know," Jubilee said miserably as she got to her feet and dragged herself toward the door. "I just … okay. I've got my scissors. I'm good." To illustrate her point, she even grasped the scissors in her hand and took what she thought was a 'ready to rumble' stance. "Let's do it."

"Want an escort down to Seven?" Bobbi offered with a sympathetic smile. "I'm headed down anyway."

"Just to be sure that someone other than Creed is there?" Jubilee said hopefully, her hands folded under her chin as she bounced on the balls of her feet. "Groot is no help at all."

"He's usually not unless you really, really piss him off," Bobbi said with a smirk. "C'mon. I'll hold him down and let you stab him if he tries anything."

Jubilee beamed at her for a moment. "Yes. I like this team up."

Bobbi gave her a crooked smile and then waved at the rest of Eight's occupants. "Try not to get into too much trouble," she directed Noh's way. "I only have one jail bailout in me per year."

Noh straightened out his shoulders. "I assure you—"

"It's fine. Go make over your fake girlfriend with pancakes or whatever it is you do," Bobbi said, waving her hand and shooting Jubilee a troublemaking smirk.

"It's not an official fake thing," Honey said softly.

"It's more to preserve Jubilee's reputation," Noh agreed, which just had Bobbi smirking that much harder as she closed the door behind her, shaking her head at Jubilee.

"You have good friends," she told the little stylist.

"The best," Jubilee agreed.

The transition from Eight to Seven was a quick one, and Bobbi was sure to peek around, puzzled when she found no sign of Creed at _all_ — which just meant another night of him catting around doing God knows what. But, to her relief, their newest victor was cleaned up — hair still wet — and sleeping peacefully in his bed already. Or passed out. It was hard to tell. Particularly when he was just face-down like that.

With Jubilee safely dropped off, then, Bobbi headed down to her own suite, making sure to rearrange herself before she walked in so that she came through the door in a bit of a huff and dropped into the nearest couch — grabbing a bottle of liquor on the way.

"That good of a night then?" Viper asked as she eyed the bottle in Bobbi's hand.

Bobbi just poured herself a measure with a bit of a scowl. "At what point do they stop bothering you about being _new_ and stop trying to hold your hand?" she half sneered.

"With the crowd you're spending your time with? Likely never," she purred out.

"They're good for getting sponsors," Bobbi said with a shrug. "But annoying as hell."

"You know you're welcome to leave the kiddie table any time. There are easier and less irritating ways to get sponsors."

Bobbi chuckled a bit under her breath. "Well, better the kiddie table than Stane's wandering hands," she said Viper's way. "Or Osborn's… whatever his problem is. And you know no one gets anywhere with Odin or Lensherr. And the Four are impossible to break into, unless, again, you want handsy with Johnny."

"Funny, I don't have _that_ problem either, yet my tributes are always well-funded," Viper said with as close to a pleasant smile as she was capable. "Threaten to lace his drink once and he just … backs off."

"See, I threatened to cut off his hands, but I guess he does better with subtlety," Bobbi laughed dryly. "Poison's really more your thing anyway."

"I do wish people would quit saying that to me. I can share." She paused and gave Bobbi a wicked little smile. "After all, it takes the suspicion off me if more people would use a bit of venom now and again."

Bobbi raised an eyebrow and leaned forward a bit before she just broke into a crooked grin and drained her glass. "Alright. I'll bite. Maybe I'll play with that the next time Stane gets touchy."

"I have a wonderful one that mimics cardiac arrest," she said sweetly.

Bobbi grinned and gestured for Viper to join her. "I like it. Do you lace the glass or the drink itself?" she asked as she poured them both another round and offered the other Two victor the second glass. "And do you think in small doses it would shut up the kids too? I've had just about enough of the 'we're all in this together' kumbaya."

"Oh, either will work — glass or drink. But for the kids … I think I have something else that would be much more fitting. It causes catatonia and unbearable pain — though they can't scream." She was grinning delightedly at the thought.

"Doesn't that take half the fun out of it?" Bobbi asked, playing up her interest with a little lean toward her old mentor.

"Oh, that's just to _break_ them," she replied. "Build a healthy dose of fear."

"I do like a little chaos and fear," Bobbi said with a troublemaking smile, remembering the way she'd won her own Games by imitating other tributes' voices to get them to break up their alliances and turn on each other. "Though I always preferred when they thought they were attacking each other."

"I was so proud of you for that," Viper said with a grin.

"The staves were a nice 'thank you,'" Bobbi agreed, laughing quietly.

Viper smiled sedately over the glass Bobbi had given her. "So, what's the latest drama with the teeny bopper crowd anyhow? Someone try to steal their cookies?"

"They're all up in arms that the new kid won't _play_ with them," Bobbi said, rolling her eyes. "Thus, the sudden interest in keeping me around. New toy. Still."

"Of course he won't," Viper replied with a wave. "He's not made of the same stuff those children are."

"No, he's definitely more interesting than they are," Bobbi had to agree. "I didn't get to see much of him last night — wandering hands, you know — but he didn't seem to want to play with _anyone_. Shame, too."

"Oh, we had a lovely little dance," she said. "I think he might be open to play in the deep end with the rest of the sharks."

Bobbi leaned forward, the glass forgotten as her eyes shone with excitement. "I got the impression from that stupid Team Awesome or whatever they were calling themselves in the Games that he was _soft_."

"If you heard the way he was talking to Selene, you'd know otherwise," she said with a delighted grin. "I've never seen her so angry."

"And I _missed it_." Bobbi shook her head. "You'll have to show me some of those poisons. I don't know that I can forgive Stane for keeping me from _that_."

"I'll be sure to get you a vial," Viper replied. "Do you think you might need it tonight? I could use something fun to listen to rather than just the same old. A bit of drama might be interesting."

Bobbi's eyes glittered at that. "Why wait? Tonight sounds good. I don't want to deal with any more of those leering stares. Though I can't promise it'll be Stane I use it on if that's the case — there are so many to choose from."

"Use it on half the crowd if you like. It only takes a drop to do the deed," Viper said with a wave.

"I think I may like your methods if this works out," Bobbi laughed, pouring another measure.

"Just be sure to drop the empty vial where no one will find it," Viper said. "Rarely do I repeat my mixtures. It's far too easy to trace back that way."

"Really, you act like I'm one of those kids. I'm _not_ that careless," Bobbi said with a wave.

Viper just sighed. "I know, darling. I know. But now I think it's time to rest. I have a plan to get another dance tonight." She grinned widely.

"Don't keep him all to yourself. Soft as he is, he's easy on the eyes," Bobbi said with a wicked smile as she leaned back and waved Viper off.

* * *

Whoever Essex had sent in ahead of Natasha, he was excellent at marking her targets for her — the phosphorescent traces on their hands from shaking his left trails on door frames and keypads, and she didn't set off a single alarm as she could just code in the numbers and stroll inside.

Natasha did her work during the day, which was a bit of a change from the rest of the runs she had done for Essex before. After all, usually the cover of night was much better suited to assassinations. But since half or better of the Capitol was sleeping off the night's parties — or distracted preparing for the next one — daylight was actually the best cover this time of year.

This last target was a little better insulated than the politicians and powerful public figures on the rest of the list, and she belonged to SHIELD, so Natasha had to be particularly careful not to be seen or to leave any trace, since Essex still wanted her to join that organization when Xavier returned to the Tahiti program. That encounter with Clint already had her on thin ice after she'd failed to bring him in or keep him down for pickup; she didn't need anything else to go wrong this week.

She followed the trail of phosphorescence past most of the security measures, but she was surprised to find that Agent Hand was still awake and working, though her full attention was on the computer in front of her as she was carefully studying out plans of some kind.

She couldn't simply stroll inside like she'd done before, so instead, Natasha stole around the side of the apartment. There were few outside-facing windows, which Natasha suspected was a purposeful decision on Hand's part in choosing a place to live, but there was one that would allow her access to the kitchen. And Natasha had been taking lessons in disarming traps, including alarms, since she was hardly old enough to read and write. This would be simple enough.

Natasha climbed in through the window once the alarms were cut and silently stole her way through the apartment from the opposite direction as before, moving from the tile of the kitchen to the carpet of the rest of the place that better muffled her steps. Hand was so engrossed in what she was working on that she didn't hear Natasha until the moment the young assassin came up behind her and neatly slit her throat. Hand was dead in moments, and she'd never made a sound.

Natasha turned to leave, but she paused, curiosity getting the best of her. Hand had been so engrossed in her work at a time when everyone else, even much of SHIELD, was focused on the parties. So what was it that had her attention?

Careful not to disturb anything that would indicate she had been there — beyond, of course, the body slumped over the desk — Natasha leaned over to read through some of the records, her eyebrows shooting up when she realized what they were: personal records and psychological evaluations, signed by an Agent Coulson, for children in the districts.

Intrigued, Natasha rifled through a few of them. She recognized a few of the names from her own district — though she was surprised she didn't see any Red Room names — and paused to read over some of the notations Coulson had made on the viability of different candidates for the Games.

She pursed her lips a bit as she read. If what she was reading was true — and considering the source, it almost had to be — then the Reapings themselves were rigged, the kids hand-picked to be part of the Games. There were notations here about which tributes would be able to balance out other tributes in the Games, which ones would most likely gain audience support, which ones would have trouble getting sponsors, which ones wouldn't need the push to volunteer, which ones would most likely _win_ , even.

Natasha couldn't help but wonder what notations were made for the Games _she_ participated in, but when she looked through the files, she could only find those for the future Games, the Quarter Quell. She could dig into the computer files more deeply, but she didn't have the time — _and_ she didn't want to leave any trace.

With a sigh, she simply put the files back where they had been and went back to the kitchen to wash off the knife she had used before she paused, glanced at the dishwasher, and just smirked. She put the blade in with the silverware and started up the load before she climbed out the window once more, headed back to the Tahiti headquarters so she could report in what she'd found.

* * *

"No visual, no shot," Maverick said easily over the closed comms. "It's on you if you can get in."

"Yeah, that's not gonna be a problem," Creed rumbled back. "No one's around. No cameras. No one's paying the least bit of attention. Should be a lark."

Maverick let out a little sigh. This assassination was supposed to be a quick thing, no big deal, but when the first couple of higher ups were found dead from the night before, the rest of the marks on the list had tightened their security to the point of ridiculousness. Almost like they knew their days were numbered. As a result, the methods they'd planned to use to stop a few of the more monstrous creeps in Marvel had to be scrapped — or in the case of the hit he was on now — the primary was now the backup in case their mark managed to slip past the seven-foot-tall monster creeping up on him.

No one knew that Victor Creed was, for now anyhow, fighting on the side of angels, and that was his one stipulation on joining the cause. No one could know.

Fury didn't argue the point in the least. Since the disastrous behind-the-scenes mess that had come up from the last Games, Creed's image was considerably less shining than it was before — which was substantial, considering that he didn't have a very good image to begin with.

Even with as carefully as Fury had the tapes edited, it seemed that large parts of the population suspected at least that there was more to the story than was presented, and keeping a healthy distance from Creed was of monumental importance if they were to keep a squeaky clean image.

But this — this was child's play to Victor. Killing was something that he did as easily as breathing, and it was something that he'd had to be very careful about since he'd won the Games himself. Making sure that the victims that he'd left in his wake were never found. That there was no trace of them — so the very idea of killing someone and leaving them where they fell … well. Nothing to it for him.

He stalked into the home, easily slipping past the security detail without so much as a turned head — only to find that his victim was not alone.

Donald Pierce was a high-value target only in the capacity that he knew too much — and guessed too close to the truth of what the Tahiti project was up to. His tech had, of course, been liberated to use on hard projects like all the 'improvements' that had been applied to Mike Peterson after TAHITI had revived him.

And Victor was there to make sure he quit digging into SHIELD's secret pet project.

The man startled when he saw the smirking Creed standing there. "How did you get in here?" he asked, but he never got his answer as Victor crossed the room in two quick strides and simply broke the man's neck.

On hearing her lover fall to the floor, the tall, lanky, raven-haired girl took a deep breath to scream, but she didn't get any further than that as Creed applied the same heavy-handed treatment to her, snapping her neck one-handed before he simply let her fall. He stood there for just a moment before he shook his head and slipped out the way he came. He was just beyond the security detail and well-hidden when the alarm was raised, and he calmly kept walking.

"That was way too fast," Creed said over his comm. "You gotta find me some that'll let me take my time."

"The point isn't to feed your sadism," Maverick said dryly as he unloaded his rifle.

"I know, I know," Victor replied in a tone that said he'd heard it a dozen times before. "But what's it hurt to have a little fun too?"

"Take it up with the boss," Maverick answered.

"Maybe I will." There was a dry chuckle for a moment. "I have a party to go to tonight. Wonder how my little whelp held up without me there to wipe his nose."


	34. The Numbers Will Kill Ya

**Notes: This is a bit of a longer chapter, but seeing as it's the last day in the Capitol, we just had so very, very much to get through. We promise it's worth it, if nothing else because someone's finally sticking it to the Capitol jerks :P (and then on to FUNNER THINGS... you have no idea).**

* * *

 **Chapter 34: "The Numbers Will Kill Ya"**

* * *

Nearly from the moment that Jubilee and Logan got to the third night of parties, he looked as if he was trying to find someone, but seeing as he kept blowing off everyone that walked up to him, the bulk of the 'friendlier' victors were obviously perplexed.

Jubilee had given up and met up with Honey and GoGo, and all three of the girls looked concerned — particularly when Honey spotted Logan actually _smiling_ as he chatted up a very pretty little blonde.

"Oh! Well… at least he's having fun," Honey whispered to Jubilee, tipping her head Logan's way.

Jubilee looked over and frowned. "That … is not a real smile," she said quietly.

"Thought you said he didn't fake it for anyone," GoGo said, matching Jubilee's frown.

"He doesn't. At least — not to kiss up. And definitely not if he's being told to," Jubilee said with her frown deepening. "He said he refused to smile for any of Selene's people … what the heck is he doing?"

"You said he was drinking a lot?" GoGo offered.

"Not today," she said, looking a bit more confused as the conversation went on and the three stylists watched as he very clearly took off with the girl. "What the heck is even happening right now?"

"He's cheating on you," Honey said, trying for a teasing smile. "You should break up with him."

"I so should," Jubilee agreed, finally breaking into a little giggle. "I wonder if that's what he's shooting for."

"You could always have a public falling out about it," GoGo mused. "I mean, send him home on bad terms with the two of you… and then _you_ can cheat on _him_."

"Oooh, yes, I like this plan," Jubilee laughed. "When do we start?"

"As soon as we find him again?" Honey offered, looking around the party. "He… is surprisingly sneaky."

"He is," Jubilee agreed, though the little group's joking around was interrupted a while later when they spotted Selene positively stalking across the room on the hunt. "This is not going to go over well, I'm _sure._ "

When Selene finally found her newest _asset,_ she was livid — especially when he was getting far too cozy with the little blonde he'd picked up earlier. The two of them were rather involved and showed no sign that they even cared she was there. _Watching_. Naturally, Selene did manage to finally break up the little rendezvous with some serious effort, ending with the blonde skittering off and Logan just smirking Selene's way as he only halfheartedly made himself presentable again.

"What is your _problem_?" Logan asked with a tone that made it clear he thought she was a mere annoyance.

"She is _not_ on the list," Selene said through her teeth.

"So."

"So you're going to ruin the market if people think they can just… pick you up on their _own_ ," she said, glaring at him.

"Oh, they _can't_ pick me up," Logan replied, shaking his head as he pulled the untied tie off his neck. "I picked her up. There _is_ a difference."

" _Why_?" She was clearly livid, her chest heaving, though she was trying not to draw too much attention for appearances' sake as she dragged him over to a table where she could try to pretend like she was being reasonable.

"Why not?" he asked as he pulled his arm free of her grasp and brushed it off as though her touch was revolting. He was perfectly calm and clearly the more in control of the two of them. "You said you wanted a cheating persona, so — you got it."

"My _clients_ want to cheat. This — this is not part of that image."

"See, now we seem to have a little disconnect," Logan said as he stepped closer to her, folding his tie up in his hands. "You said I had to go along with your clients. You never breathed a word about me doing my own thing."

"How are you planning to maintain your fling with your stylist when you're so _distracted_? It's one thing to cheat, but you have to have someone _to_ cheat on..."

"She's very tolerant of my interests," Logan said, straight-faced. "And I'm sure she's got a lot on her plate right now. She's very in demand in her own way."

Selene looked positively livid. "You're going to _catch_ something."

Logan tipped his head to the side and scrunched up his face a little bit. "Would that be _bad for business?_ How _unfortunate_."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "If you become a liability rather than an asset, I'll have to consider our contract breached."

"You do and I'll blow this thing wide open and make sure you don't hold anyone's contracts."

She laughed derisively. "You don't have any say in that."

He just smiled back at her in a very calculating way. "You don't think so, huh? Come at me when I'm doing what you asked, and I _will_ kill you slow."

"We've been through this."

"Yeah, we have. And I'm still holding up my end of it. Not my problem if I have hobbies that you don't approve of. Especially when they lend well to your own narrative." He was smirking crookedly at her and looking positively reasonable the whole time. "Cheating is cheating."

Selene looked even more livid than before, though the quiet conversation was interrupted unexpectedly by a _clearly_ amused Gamora as she slid into the seat across from both of them with Peter Quill trailing on her arm. She was chuckling to herself as she looked over the two of them. "Oh, don't let us interrupt," she said smoothly as she half pulled Quill into her side and lazily trailed her fingers through his hair.

"You're not interrupting, princess," Logan promised with a little wink and a tight smirk.

"Oh no?" Gamora raised an eyebrow his way with a quiet smirk of her own. "I must have misread the hue of Selene's face — or is purple in season again this year?"

"That's just how you know she's listening," Logan replied as he turned back to Selene with a growing smile and a malicious gleam all his own. "She _can_ be taught."

Selene bristled visibly and narrowed her eyes at him. "We're just discussing business," Selene said as she fought for control of her expression and settled on a more practiced professional smile.

"Of course, _you_ know how it is when it comes down to simple percentages," Logan said, leaning toward Selene again. "And I have to admit, the business side of it got me curious." He turned to Gamora. "If it's not too forward, what's your cut?"

"That is not your concern," Gamora said with a wave and a bemused smile, though she was clearly entertained — this was the most any victor had been willing to go toe-to-toe with Selene, and she loved it.

"Maybe, maybe not," Logan said as he rubbed his finger over his bottom lip for a moment. He drew in a deep breath and shifted so that he kept both women in the center of the conversation. "You probably don't know it, but my father was one hell of a businessman. I spent a lot of time in his office, and I can spot someone stepping out of their contracts just about as quick as he could."

He pulled a cocktail napkin closer as he removed a pen out of his jacket and wrote something down quickly before he slid it over to Gamora. "I understand if you don't want to tell me anything. Really, I do. But … I was sure to ask both women Selene sent me off with what they paid for the night. _Out of curiosity_. Now, if I'm honest, I think I'd rather you _didn't_ provide me any details — but you might want to make sure your cut lines up right with what's on that paper. And keep in mind, I know I have nothing to gain out of telling you."

"So you do this out of the _kindness_ of your heart, of course," Gamora said with a sneer, though she looked over the numbers in a glance and very suddenly stiffened.

"No," Logan replied with an honest little laugh and one of his best smiles when he saw Gamora's reaction, though it shifted to one much more vindictive as he leaned toward Gamora again and let his voice drop low. "I just wanna make sure she knows what it's like to get screwed for once herself, seein' as she's got no trouble screwing everyone else."

The smile on Gamora's face was no longer amused as she looked Selene's way. "She'd be foolish indeed if this is true. My sister and I have no patience for liars, and my brother is… jealous of his cut." Selene looked a little taken back by the turn the conversation had taken, and for the first time all night, Quill looked like he was having a _blast_ , watching the back and forth like a tennis match as Gamora had clearly forgotten about him entirely.

"I can't give you the names, of course. I'm _told_ that would breach my 'contract'," Logan said as he casually leaned back in his chair. "But I'm sure that if you looked in the books — or just checked your cameras … you'd be able to corroborate the story. Unless I'm ordered to spill by the royal family, of course." He turned to Selene with a smirk. "So, Ms. Gallio. You were about to point me to tonight's _generous_ patron?"

Selene looked like she wanted to kill Logan with her bare hands as she glanced between him and Gamora, but before she could quite recover, Gamora got to her feet, looking thunderous as she placed both hands on the table and leaned toward Selene, eyes flashing. "Do not leave this building until I dismiss you," Gamora said in a hiss to Selene. "Your license is revoked — and I'm sure your life as well if my findings continue on the pattern your newest _asset_ is suggesting."

With that, Gamora left Quill behind as she was clearly not in the mood for lighter games when there was this level of deception — and frustrated even more at finding out that the newest victor had sniffed out the deception that had gone undetected for who knows how long. It was a blemish on the reputation of the royal family for such a thing to even occur, let alone for someone so green to pick up on it before anyone else.

A silence fell over the table for a long while that was only interrupted as the ice in Logan's glass clinked against the sides when he raised it to tip it back for a long drink. He glanced up at Quill, who still looked highly amused before he shifted to watch Selene more carefully as she sat stock still beside him.

"You look like you could use a drink," Logan said to Selene as it was clear that Gamora was long gone. "Something happen at work?"

She looked somewhere between terrified and livid now as she met his gaze, but before she could respond, Bobbi dropped into the seat Gamora had vacated with glasses and whiskey. "I must've missed the party," she said, looking at the huge grin on Peter's face.

"You so, so did, Bob," Peter said as he took the glass she offered him.

"I think your evening just got freed up, Morse," Logan said, leaning back in his chair, his focus still on Selene — openly challenging her to argue his statement.

Bobbi raised an eyebrow and took his glass to pour him a fresh measure. "I'm still at this dumb party, right?" she said with a shrug before she poured some for Selene as well and pushed the last glass her way. "What's got your tongue tied, Selene?"

Logan watched Bobbi's movement carefully, and as Selene picked up the glass with a wicked glare, Logan's arm darted toward her and knocked it out of her hand, letting it fall to the floor with a crash and no explanation.

The grin on Peter's face fell as he looked toward Bobbi, who had frozen in shock, though the look of surprise was nothing compared to the one on Selene's face as she openly stared at Logan. It was easy to see the comprehension dawning on her expression as she glanced from the glass to Logan and to Bobbi before she just… stood up in a rush and swept off.

Logan turned to Bobbi with a _look._ "Too merciful."

"You don't know that," Bobbi argued.

"I know that she's already a dead woman walking," Logan replied. "Let her watch it come slow."

"Gamora's working on taking her down right now," Peter explained to Bobbi when the blonde victor looked like she didn't quite believe it.

"If you have anything on you, get rid of it," Logan said. "Before she gets back with guards."

Bobbi met Logan's gaze for a moment before she sighed. "It's with a friend for analysis," she said, which had Peter raising both eyebrows. "It's not my mixture," she added his way, which had Peter looking even _more_ incredulous.

"You might be stuck at the party," Logan said as he finally tossed his tie onto the table. "But your _night_ is now free. Don't get too wasted."

Bobbi stared at him for a moment before a smile started to tug at the corner of her mouth. "Takes more than a few drinks to get me there."

"Then let me wash up and we'll see how many it takes," Logan replied. "Maybe I'll tell you about it later if you think you need to know. Quill only caught the end."

"The fun part," Quill said, falling back into his earlier grin.

Bobbi shook her head at both men. "I have to go complain to my supplier, but meet me later and I'll drink you under the table," she shot Logan's way with a smirk.

"Better bring a friend for that, darlin'."

"To carry you out?" she teased.

"If you're lucky," he said, though his smile from earlier was gone.

She grinned widely at him before she excused herself — though both Logan and Quill saw that she went sauntering over to the table where Sarkissian and Masters were chatting with Shmidt, slipping into that group easily as she said something to Two's Viper that had the woman looking both disappointed and pleased, somehow at the same time.

"Your woman's gonna be mad," Logan said to Quill as he watched Bobbi work. "Would have preferred it was one of the others that came over so you wouldn't be in the middle."

"Nah, it was a good show," Quill assured him. "And I usually get the freak show kind of entertainment, so it was a nice break." He leaned back and studied the glass Bobbi had pushed his way before he poured himself more to drink. "Good thing she was gone when Bob showed up, though."

Logan let out a tired sigh over the whole situation. "No kidding."

"She's not usually the poison type. Wonder what set her that way," Quill said half under his breath, though from the way he was watching the table full of some of the more vicious victors that Bobbi seemed to fit into nicely, it was clear he had an idea — that he didn't like.

"Viper was trying to get me to do the same thing last night," Logan told him.

"Ah, well — that explains it," Quill said, leaning back easily and clearly enjoying himself without his green shadow. "She was Bob's mentor. Halfway convinced she can get herself a little protege, way Bobbi talks about it."

"Yeah," Logan said with a hollow sort of laugh, his previous attempt at a good mood gone entirely now that he'd done what he set out to do.

Quill tipped his head Logan's way for a second before he let out a sigh of his own. "Thanks for the show. Seriously. But I gotta get moving while I've got a free arm, y'know? Some of us're still attached even after your _spectacular_ performance. Seriously, man."

"Just push that bottle over here and do what you gotta do."

Quill did just that, pushing it over and grinning crookedly. "That was beautiful. I mean it."

"Got the desired effect. Mostly that purple color." Logan didn't bother using the glass, just going straight from the bottle without batting an eye. "And the guards watchin' her … waitin' to frog march her out." Logan tipped his head toward where a pair of Nova Corps guards were following Selene's every movement.

"Yeah, that's my favorite part too," Quill chuckled before he patted Logan on the shoulder on the way out. "See ya 'round." With that, he headed off toward Maria Hill, who looked progressively more pleased — and surprised — the longer the two of them chatted.

Quill was outright grinning the whole time he and Hill talked in the dark corner bar. "You should've seen the look on her face. On — on everyone's faces. It was comedy _gold_."

"What exactly happened though?" Hill asked. "It sounds like you missed the most important parts. How did this … how did they get to that point so _fast_? He's been here for like five minutes."

"I don't know, honestly," Quill said with a shrug. "Apparently, he _asked_ the patrons what they paid, wrote it down, and you should've seen Gamora's face when she saw the numbers. I was actually, for just, like, five seconds, mind you, happy to be there with her."

"He … _asked_ his patrons?" Hill asked with a disbelieving look.

"Yeah, which ... no one has really done before," Quill said, still grinning.

"That's because no one wanted to know," Hill said with a frown. She was quiet for a moment, watching the liquor roll over the ice cubes in her glass for a moment as she thought it over. "What was the number?" she asked, eyes narrowed slightly.

"About twice as much as what I've heard the royals talking about," Quill told her with raised eyebrows. "And that's just me overhearing what they want me to, so… you know that doesn't include the _new_ guy, who's probably at a higher price…"

"Oh," Hill said looking shocked with her eyebrows high. "She's so dead."

"She so is," Quill agreed, the smile stretching wide before he sobered up a bit. "It's just temporary, though — you know the princesses have had their eyes on that business since it started, so… new bosses." His entire facial expression wrinkled up all at once as if he was sucking on something sour.

"Why did he do it? Did … Gamora _had_ to have asked him," Hill said. "There is no way anyone would dream that up on their own."

"No, I'd've known if she did," Quill said, shaking his head. "She looked totally gobsmacked, which… does _not_ happen with her. Ever." He let out a breath. "Ronan's gotta be pissed too. He's been annoyed with Selene for _ages_ because she gets to screw with us and he doesn't."

"You're sure Logan's not in with them?" Hill asked, looking far more like her spy hunting self in spite of the dress.

"Pretty darn," he said earnestly. "They'd be bragging about it if he was. You know there would be… well…. _suggestions_ that I'm getting replaced. No way Nebula'd pass that up."

"Unless they put him up with Nebula," she pointed out with one eyebrow raised.

"Maybe." Quill shrugged. "Still, I'm telling you, Gamora didn't know it was coming. If her sister set it up to piss her off, it was brilliantly done." He paused. "But that does sound like her, I gotta admit. She likes to screw with her sister."

"Keep an eye out, would you?" Hill said. "We need to keep on top of this one."

"Yeah," Quill said, now with a distinct frown. "If he's helping the royals with a power play, that's just gonna complicate things down the line." He frowned deeper as he added, "And seeing as this means they're going to be running Selene's deals, make no mistake — they _did_ get the better end of this deal. More power and money." He shrugged. "And they won't share it with Dad, you better believe that." He seemed to think about it for a second before he scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. I'll keep an eye out," he said before he slipped back off into the party — before they could draw any attention for having anything close to a long conversation.

Bobbi, in the meantime, was still at the table with the other Two victors in addition to Shmidt and Norman Osborn, who had just come to join them looking incredibly smug.

"There seems to be a quiet uproar going around the party," Osborn said as he slid into his seat. "Disappointed customers — it's a shoddy way to run a business." His eyes were glittering with malice and pure amusement as he said it.

"You missed the show," Bobbi told him, pushing him a glass so he could join them. "The new kid has a nose for business — you might just have a competitor, Norman."

"I highly doubt that," Osborn replied with a sneer. "Particularly concerning anyone that spends that much time up a tree."

"He had all the numbers in his head — just off the top of his head, pulled them out for Gamora herself," Bobbi said with a little smirk, enjoying Osborn's expression.

"So just _imagine_ the damage he could do if he spent some time in the proper setting with a bit of training and polish," Viper said with a wide smile. "You'd be in serious trouble."

"Then it's a waste of talent I could have used," Osborn reasoned. "You know he'll go right back to those woods when he goes home." He shook his head as he watched the temporarily lone victor drinking. "No, I'm not concerned."

"Lucky for you," Viper said with an oily smile. "If he goes back, that is."

"He does seem to have caught the royals' attention," Masters said, wearing a lazy expression as he leaned back in his chair.

"Vicious in the Games .. and then here with Selene as well? Rare," Shmidt said slowly.

"He stopped me from killing her, you know," Bobbi said. "He said it was too _merciful_."

Shmidt looked surprised for a moment, but then the smile started to grow. "Yes. He was right. Leave her to Ronan's games."

"It's just so much more fun when you can _see_ it," Bobbi complained as she poured herself another drink.

"Perhaps … but the favor he just did for Ronan will carry," Viper said. "As much as it pains me to admit it."

"Two days in and already Ronan owes him one." Masters sounded entirely entertained. "That's got to be some kind of record. Blows you out of the water, Osborn."

"He didn't learn that from Creed," Osborn said as he tipped his chin toward the other side of the room.

Bobbi followed his gaze to see that Creed and the newest victor were just… comfortably seated together over a bottle. "Oh, that… that has to be stopped," she said, shaking her head. "We leave them for too long, and Creed will be _intolerable_."

"And a total waste of useable resources," Shmidt said with a bit of a sneer. "Miss Morse, I want him out of there and away from that …. buffoon."

Bobbi got to her feet and shook out her hair. "He promised me a drink earlier. I'll take care of it," she promised Shmidt with an easy shrug before she all but glided over to the two Seven victors.

When Bobbi arrived, Creed looked honestly amused. "Which team are you playing for tonight, little bird?" he asked in a low, sleazy tone.

"Mine, as usual," she said with a dismissive wave before she rested a hand on Logan's shoulder and stole his glass with her other hand to finish it off for him.

"What the hell," Logan grumbled as he turned her way. "What'd ya do that for?"

"I was promised a drinking contest, and you are _way_ too plastered for anything like a fair game," she said as she pulled on his arm to get him to his feet.

"Says you," he muttered as he swayed a bit.

"Yeah, says me," she agreed.

"You gonna put him to bed, girlie?" Creed asked, grinning wider. "Come on by when you're done, why dontcha?"

She glared his way. "You wish," she half growled as she slipped an arm around Logan's shoulders. "Come on, let's get some fresh air. The company here is _horrible_."

He didn't argue with her as he slipped his arm across her back and let her steer him outside. "So what did you really want?" he asked. "You didn't bring any booze. Makes a contest a helluva lot harder to pull off."

"Honestly? I just wanted to get you away from Creed. I hate when he looks happy about anything, and that was a horrible look on him," she told him frankly.

"He's a pain," Logan agreed.

"So, how come you were drinking with him?" she countered with one eyebrow raised.

"I dunno," he said with a little frown. "How long was that goin' on?"

"No idea — I was with Osborn and the _fun_ table," she said in a clearly sarcastic tone. "But just ... next time, keep a better eye out. I can't babysit you all the time."

"What makes you think I'm gonna participate?" he asked.

"I don't really care, Logan — I just don't want Creed to look that pleased. Ever," she said pointedly. "You can do whatever you want in the meantime."

"If you don't care, then what point are you trying to make by pullin me outta there?" he replied with a look. "Shouldn't make a difference who I'm drunk with."

"I said I didn't care what you did — just that I wanted Creed miserable. It's not complicated." She shrugged both shoulders. "You've made it pretty clear you don't want to be friendly, so this is me. Not caring."

"You're still mad I didn't let you kill Selene?" he asked with a frown and a disbelieving laugh. "Because I had a damn good reason behind it."

"Yeah, I get it, I get it — let her suffer," she said with a wave.

"No," he said shaking his head before he ran a hand over his face. "That's not it, or I'd have done it on day one."

"You didn't have the numbers on day one."

"Nope," he said, in full agreement. "But if any _one_ of us did anything to her, _all_ her contracts she had on your people back home would come up. It was her insurance policy." He shook his head. "Tell me you knew that. Or someone did. I _can't_ be the first one to tell her I'd kill her, and if I am, you guys … are a complete disappointment."

Bobbi turned his way with both eyebrows raised. "I didn't," she admitted honestly. "Maybe someone else knew, but… my parents and brother were enough for me to stop threatening her once she brought them in."

He let out a breath and looked both ways before deciding to spell it out for her quietly. "She told me if anything happened to her — not only would she kill my people but everyone else's too. If Ronan does it ... " He just let the statement fall as he gave her a significant look. "I'm probably still takin' a chance on my people, but I think she's stuck."

Bobbi glanced over both shoulders and let out a quiet breath. "Let me know who to look out for," she told him in a low whisper, "and I'll make sure your people don't get hit for this."

"The families of my alliance," he said quietly. "And maybe Jubes and Noh."

She let out a low whistle. "That's some list, Logan."

"She had scenarios in place for all of 'em. Just pissed me off."

"Yeah, well, I've got contacts in just about every district. I'll keep you covered," she promised. "And for the record, if you try and stop me from getting whoever takes over for Selene, I _will_ hit you."

"I only did what I had to. You'd have screwed yourself over if you'd gone through with it."

"Yeah, that's true," she admitted. "I didn't know that part, so ... thanks." She gave him a little smile. "Just between us, though, I was looking forward to it. It was one of Viper's, so you know it would have been exactly what that witch deserved."

"Likely," he agreed. "Take it out on me if you need to. I can take it."

"No, no," she said with a little laugh. "You saved my people. I owe you one."

"No you don't," he argued.

"You're right — I owe you two," she agreed, still smiling a bit. "Jess told me why you were pissed at her. That was my mistake too. Sorry about that." She'd lost a bit of her smile and looked honestly apologetic. "You shouldn't have found out from her."

"I fixed it," he said with a frown firmly in place, obviously not forgetting it. "At least for now. So you can forget it."

She shrugged at him as the two of them sat out in the open air for a while before they were joined by a new player, and Logan looked up and let out a little noise of disappointment. "Looks like we're busted, Morse."

She turned with him and actually straightened a bit when she saw Nick Fury headed their way. "Director," she said with a nod, tipping her head his way.

"Slow season?" Logan asked. "No death traps to set or kids to kill?"

Fury just gave him a dry look. "I heard about your little stunt earlier. Do you have any idea how badly that could have blown up in your face?"

"If it ended in me dead, that would have been fine too," Logan said in a totally unconcerned tone.

"That would have caused all kinds of conflicts," Fury replied. "You both need to get back inside for the president's announcement, and Mr. Howlett — your little trick did _not_ negate your duties for the night. Your escort will make sure you carry out your job. Selene or no, you will follow through."

"Gotta complete the hazing," Logan muttered mostly to himself.

"That true for the rest of us, sir?" Bobbi asked with a small frown.

Fury drew in a deep breath as he looked over the expression on her face. "No, just him."

It was clear Bobbi was trying not to look too relieved — for Logan's sake — as she nodded and pushed past Fury on her way to the door. "Let's just ... get this announcement over with then," she said with a bit of a glare at Fury, though she still had a hand on Logan's arm and was clearly taking him with her.

"It's fine," Logan told her out of the corner of his mouth as she locked her jaw and shook her head. "It's the gig, right? Even if we didn't sign up for it. Didn't think I'd catch a break."

"No," she said through gritted teeth. "Just ... stick to your stylist until you have to go. And come by Eight later. Whenever … well. Whenever you're _done._ "

Logan tried to argue with her, but she said something quick and quiet to the stylists around Jubilee, and the little group seemed to gel around him as Jubilee took his arm with a little smile while the crowd looked to the presidential platform.

"Tonight, we are celebrating the most recent victor of the Avenger Games," Thanos began as the room went still around him. "But as the celebrations end, we look to the future Games." He seemed to be honestly amused at the thought. "And the approaching year marks twenty-five years of the Games." He paused and surveyed the crowd slowly. "The anniversary of which shall hereafter be known as the Quarter Quell — to mark each quarter century that these Games prevail." With a little flourish, he pulled out a well-decorated card and read the rules for all of Marvel to hear:

"To remind the districts that they are ever reliant on the Capitol for their lives and well-being, every day that passes in these Games _will_ see death. No longer will tributes be allowed to turn to each other for the false safety of alliances. If no one dies by the time the recap plays — one will be chosen at random to die nonetheless." Thanos let a cruel smile stretch over his face as he glanced around at the gathered crowd to take in their reactions. "Let the districts remember that they fight for the Capitol, and not for each other." With that, the president boomed out, "May the odds be ever in their favor," before he swept back off to his throne to watch the room digest the revelation.

It was totally silent for several beats before the murmurs started up. "That's not fair," GoGo complained over Jubilee's shoulder.

"Not supposed to be fair," Logan muttered.

"But how are we supposed to help if it comes down to _chance_ at the end of the day?" she argued, clearly grumpy about this turn of events.

"I think that's to make sure the victors fighting for their kids don't have any hope either," Logan said through his teeth.

"Well that's just _stupid_ ," Jubilee muttered out. "And it's not gonna stop us from trying anyway, so _there_."

Logan nodded in agreement and gave the hand she had resting on his arm a little squeeze. They were all in a bit of shock, not entirely paying attention to the room in general and the loud buzz of speculation that had risen up — when Moira came over and tapped Logan on the shoulder.

"Time tae go," she said quietly before she gave Jubilee a significant look.

Jubilee, of course, looked entirely put out. "No. No freakin' way. No one … no one _else_ has to!"

"See ya later, Jubes," Logan said, slipping out with Moira, though Jubilee looked positively fit to be tied. As with the two nights previous, Logan didn't say a word to Moira as he waited to see what kind of twisted situation was waiting for him on the other end, but the last thing he expected when he stepped into the nondescript suite in the center of the Capitol was Fury, Coulson, Hill ... and Bobbi.

"Okay, this is new," Logan said under his breath, looking at the four of them warily. "What fresh hell is this?"

"Why don't you take a seat?" Coulson offered with a little smile. "It's about time you were debriefed on what's been going on — and since you were so good to open up an entire night for us, we have time for any questions I'm sure you have."

Logan looked between the three adults before he let his gaze rest on Bobbi with a clear look of questioning.

She shrugged his way. "I didn't know about this 'til Hill picked me up."

He let out a sigh and headed over to take a seat as he pulled at his collar. "Okay. What's the story?" he asked still watching all of them very warily.

"In a word?" Fury said, leaning forward a bit. "Revolution."

Logan half chuckled at that. "Right."

"It's taken us the better part of two decades to get the right people in charge in Thanos' Capitol, especially in SHIELD," Hill explained. "But yes, we really are set to take down the current regime — and much more effectively than the Civil War twenty-six years ago."

"So why are you telling me? I thought you got your notes squared: drunk lumberjack," he said, gesturing to himself. "Not much good to anyone, really, unless you need a tree cut down."

Coulson smirked at that. "A drunk lumberjack who not only dismantled Selene's empire but also put our inside man in the royal palace closer to intel on the dynamics between them _and_ the rest of the power players in the Capitol than he's been able to so on his own in the past year."

"Hey. I was just trying to screw her like she was doing to everyone else," Logan defended. "Didn't know a thing about your … whatever this is."

"So imagine what you could do when you're actively working to screw the rest of 'em," Fury said with a smirk. He leaned forward a bit. "You'll have to be brought up to speed — there are plans in motion that we _don't_ need you to screw with _just_ because you want to play out your revenge schemes. But that kind of wrecking force — point that at Thanos and he'll be out by this time next year."

"I really don't know what I can bring to your … coup. Or whatever," Logan said. "I don't … what use is someone like me? I'm no soldier or spy or whatever."

"No, you won't be doing the kind of missions Morse and Quill run," Hill agreed with a growing smirk.

"Missions." He looked doubtful. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said." She leaned forward slightly with that same smirk widening. "We can't move on the president himself yet, but we _can_ take out his support — and others who would like to move in on the power vacuum once he's out."

"Okay ... so what? Kamikaze run? Sure," he said with a shrug. "Just tell me who to stab in the face."

"That would be a complete waste of your potential and your talents," Fury remarked. "Assassination runs, intelligence gathering on occasion — we've got facilities for you to train in to become better at it than you already are. I've already got a few trainers in mind for you to help focus that wrecking ball tendency."

"I thought you said I wouldn't be a spy," Logan said. "What would you call that? And it doesn't make much sense to have someone like _me_ running around. What happens when I get caught?"

"You won't be," Fury said simply.

"And you won't be running around openly," Coulson put in. "We already have a few victors running missions as well — and others. We know how to keep you and them out of the public eye — and away from detection."

"Others," Logan said, nodding his head slowly. "Who would you put me to work with, then?"

"If all goes well," Fury said, "we have an entire team picked out. A sniper, an infiltration expert, a heavy, and you."

"Is that code for 'bait'?"

"It's code for 'point'," Fury replied evenly.

Logan looked over at Bobbi with raised eyebrows. "Point. That sounds suspiciously like someone in charge. Does anyone know about this, or are you making this up on the spot?"

"News to me," Bobbi muttered his way.

But Fury just shrugged lightly. "The team itself has been in development for a while. Two of its members have been running missions together already, and the third ... well. We're taking a look to see if he can play with others."

"I'm neither experienced nor any kind of a leader," Logan said before he paused for just a moment, holding his breath. "Exactly how dangerous is this?"

"If you get caught? It won't be pretty," Hill told him frankly. "It'll be messy and painful, and there will be severe retaliation, especially if they can get anything out of you."

"But if we pull this off?" Coulson added. "It'll mean not only the end of the Games but everything else this regime has forced on you and everyone else — victor, tribute, and otherwise."

It was clear that Coulson and Hill expected him to think it over for a while as both of them had moved to take a seat. But then — "When do I start?" Logan asked.

Fury smirked at that as Coulson and Hill looked openly surprised by how little thought he'd given it. "You'll be expected to put in an appearance back home now that the tour is over, but give it a week, and we'll get your training started immediately afterward," Fury said.

Logan just nodded and looked between the three of them again. "Is that all?"

"For now," Fury said with a nod.

"If you have any questions, you're welcome to find me," Coulson offered with a small smile.

"You didn't read her notes too well either," Logan said to Coulson. "I'm not really smart enough for too many questions, isn't that right, Maria Louisa Hill, Assistant Director of SHIELD?"

"That's how you play it, anyway," Maria said, though she gave him a bit of a glare. "And that's _not_ my name."

"Maybe next time I'll get it right."

She rolled her eyes at him as Bobbi let out a little chuckle and Coulson was obviously smirking — though not as obviously as Fury.

"You can go to Jess or Sam if you need anything," Bobbi put in. "I can't promise I can help you when I'm working Sarkissian and some of the others, but I'll do what I can."

Logan shook his head at her. "I'm really not .. I don't do too many questions most of the time. Tell me what to do and I'll get it done."

"It's just to cover the bases," she told him. "Anything you run across that you're not sure of — like you said, you're not a spy, and some of the alliances here are … complicated." She made a face. "I mean, look at Peter."

"Right," he said, nodding to himself. "So I guess I really should know — how many sides are there here? You're one, the royals are two more at least, seeing as the kids only hide behind dad when it suits them," Logan said as he ticked them off on his fingers. "...then Viper and Shmidt … Creed more or less on his own … anyone else?"

"Technically, all the victors are working together against the Capitol — for the moment," Hill said.

"But not on the same team," Logan said with one eyebrow raised.

"No, Shmidt wants the throne, not an end to the monarchy," Bobbi said. "He's got a good following among the victors, too."

"I noticed," Logan replied. "But who does _he_ answer to?"

"For the time being, he answers to me," Fury said. "But we all know that's not going to stay that way."

Logan furrowed his brow, clearly looking as if he didn't believe Fury's line.

"There are a few other players, but we have other teams in SHIELD working on those. Hopefully, they won't be a problem by the time we get this rolling," Coulson explained, quickly stepping in to keep the conversation moving smoothly. "We've already cleared out an organization in Two that was brainwashing young girls to become fighters."

"The redhead," Logan said with a deepening frown. "The crappy actress."

"Yes, she was from that organization," Coulson nodded. "She wasn't the first, either."

"Not me," Bobbi put in, raising both hands to shoulder level and shaking her head lightly. "I'm from Two, but I'm not one of theirs." She looked as if the very idea left a bad taste in her mouth.

"They were setting up shop in other districts outside of Two, but at this point, they're basically defunct," Coulson explained. "We're handling it."

"How many operatives do you have working?" Logan asked, weighing it out a little more carefully with the extended information. "I thought most of the old soldiers were executed way back when."

"We have newer recruits," Fury said with a slow nod. "It's unavoidable."

"So everyone's green," Logan surmised. "Least I won't be too far behind."

"It's a hazard of fighting a paranoid dictator who kills anyone worth anything before they hit their twenties," Fury pointed out.

"I should be safe then," Logan said with a little smirk.

"It does help to have the victors on our side," Hill admitted. "Thanos is obsessed with the Games — you all are a blind spot for him. He wants you alive and suffering."

"I noticed."

"So for the time being, there's just two sides — Thanos and the rest of us. Morse can fill you in on the way things are fracturing beneath the surface when she drives you home."

"I think I can more or less see it," Logan said.

"Then I'll see you next week," Fury said, getting to his feet with a tone of finality.

"One more thing," Logan said, getting to his feet himself. "When this all gets rolling and everything comes unraveled — my cousin. His job will make him a target. He doesn't deserve that."

"So long as he stays on the right side, he'll be safe," Fury told him. "I won't promise anything if he's fighting for Thanos, even if it is his job."

"He's the worst damn Sentinel anyone's ever seen," Logan said. "Refuses to enforce nearly everything."

"Then we won't have a problem," Fury said.

Logan turned to Bobbi and gave her a tired smirk. "So I guess I'm supposed to go home with you then, eh?"

"Try not to get too excited. I saw you with the last blonde," she said with a smirk to match.

"Well. That was in public.," he replied. "Had to be more dramatic then."


	35. Save the Boyfriend

**Notes: We're not** _ **quite**_ **done with the tour. Yeah, I know, we did all that stuff in the last chapter, but that was with the victors. We have a whole other side of this story with the Tahiti kids, and they're dealing with their** _ **own**_ **problems that we gotta put in this story too!**

* * *

 **Chapter 35: "Save the Boyfriend"**

* * *

 _January 15_

 _In the Capitol_

* * *

Kurt and Jan met up with Steve and Sin under the cover of darkness during the third night in the Capitol, and both teams looked a little tired and worn out from three straight days of trying to pick through Capitol trainers' houses.

Still, even with how tired they were, it didn't take long at all before Steve and Jan were trading stories back and forth about the various traps they'd encountered, and Kurt had to smirk a bit to himself as he heard Janet's incredibly dramatic retelling of their adventures as the little group made its way to the rendezvous point. He thought _he_ was dramatic, but Jan… Jan was enthusiastically embellishing _everything._

Sin, on the other hand, was just chuckling quietly to herself as Steve told Jan about the electrical trap that had taken out the use of his right arm for a while, pressing ahead to scout the path rather than listen to Steve try to downplay the whole thing — the complete opposite of Jan's dramatic retelling.

Sin got a little further ahead of the group only to discover what looked to be an impromptu private party with some Capitolite citizens, and she backtracked a bit to let the group know what was going on.

"Got a few late-night carousers in the way," she said when she reached the other three. "I say we stick to the rooftops so we don't get pulled into any more nonsense. I'm _so_ done here." She had one hand on her hip as she shook her head at her three companions, who glanced at each other on hearing about the minor obstruction and simply shrugged.

"I'll take Jan," Steve volunteered, and the two of them went around the side of one of the buildings to find a way up to the roof, while Kurt and Sin went to the other side of the street, keeping low and out of sight — which was significantly more difficult on the final night of parties when there were fireworks, both the official kind and the drunken-party-goer kind that went off much closer to the rooftops they were on.

The two younger Tahiti operatives pressed themselves low to the roof as another round of fireworks went off, and Sin shot Kurt a grin that was easy to see even with the mask. "I think this is the most excitement we've had since we got here. Dodging explosions," she said in half a laugh.

Kurt shook his head at her. "They're not actually aiming at us," he pointed out.

Though he just had to laugh when her immediate response was, "Shame."

They stayed low for another long moment, waiting for that round of fireworks to finish before they heard the scream of another rocket almost as soon as they stood up to move again and flattened themselves once more — though neither had expected it to actually hit the roof they were on.

Both Tahiti operatives were blown back, along with bits of brick and other debris, stunned for only a moment before both of them popped back up, glanced at each other, and just _ran_. Whatever had just hit, it hadn't been any fireworks — that much was certain.

" _Now_ they're firing at us!" Sin shouted, her ears ringing so loud she barely heard herself.

When Kurt glanced over at Sin, he could see that she was running a bit slower than he was, still slightly dazed. Both of them had tears and cuts in their uniforms, though thankfully, the armor had absorbed enough of the blast that neither of them had been knocked unconscious. Still, Kurt knew that if Sin's ears were ringing as badly as his were, they were in trouble, at the very least — they couldn't hear anyone coming in this state.

They both jumped to the next rooftop over, but with their hearing shot, neither of them caught the approach of several masked and black-clad men until they'd burst onto the rooftop as well, stopping Kurt with a blow to the stomach as another grabbed Sin by the arm.

Kurt somehow managed to spin around to land a solid kick to the man who'd hit him, twisting away from his grip as he tried to get his breath back. His hands found the rapier at his side in a moment, and if not for the ringing in his ears and the screech of fireworks over their heads, the sound of the blade coming unsheathed would have echoed in the streets as he squared up against several of the masked men moving in on him and Sin.

Three of them lunged toward Kurt, drawing far more lethal-looking weapons than his sword, though the guns in their hands weren't exactly standard, and when one of them fired at Kurt, he saw the blue residue painted over the brick just behind him after he managed to duck the shot.

Kurt decided that he definitely didn't want to find out what happened if one of those shots managed to hit him, so, reasserting his grip on his sword, he dove forward, the blade spinning and shining, reflecting the moonlight and fireworks as he worked to disarm the men and, in the case of one who tried to rush him after Kurt split his gun in half, run him through.

With just a moment to breathe, Kurt glanced over to see how Sin was doing. She had managed to twist out of the grip of the man who had grabbed her arm when the men first rushed the rooftop, and he was just in time to see her pull her knife back out of the man's chest and spin to face the incoming men, her knife now slick with blood and her stance simply screaming that she was _ready_ for a fight — practically welcoming another attack with a grin.

One of the men seized the opportunity to take advantage of Kurt's distraction when he glanced at Sin, though, and rushed forward with a heavy blow that sent Kurt back several steps, and before Kurt could move to return the favor, another two men seemed to appear out of nowhere to try to wrestle the sword from his hand — one of them reaching around to haul Kurt back by his head and shoulders to do so.

Although he managed to twist out of their grasp, it was only half a victory, as they did get hold of his arm and twist it badly enough to get him to drop his sword, and Kurt only just managed to kick them away before he retreated several steps, glancing once more over at Sin as it was clear that, despite her overconfidence, her fight with four men at once wasn't exactly going well either.

But it was the flash of metal that Kurt spotted as one of the men surrounding Sin had a set of restraints that made the decision for him. These men weren't trying to kill but to capture them, and somehow, that just made this whole thing more dangerous, considering the secret their very existence was.

With several long, running strides, Kurt abandoned his fight with the masked men around him to rush over to where Sin was, fully intending to just grab her and _run_ , but when one of them managed to get a hand on Sin and close the cuffs around one of her wrists, he switched directions to simply hit the offender as hard as he could, sending the man reeling back and away from Sin as Kurt pushed the younger girl away from her assailants.

He glanced around once more to see that they were well and truly outnumbered, and there were others on the next roof over, so the best method of escape…

He didn't hesitate except to mutter a quick 'sorry' to Sin before he shoved her hard — pushing her not only away from the masked men but off the edge of the roof itself. He would have followed her over, too, if not for the fact that one of the men rushed forward and hit him hard enough over the shoulders to send him crashing to his knees, so he didn't see if Sin had managed to right herself so she could keep from a rough landing on the street below before he was positively surrounded, the attackers landing a few hard hits that knocked the breath and the fight out of him before they got Kurt restrained and, in an instant, unconscious as one of them hit him hard over the head.

Sin murmured a quiet "ow" as she lay on her back, dazed and distracted. She wasn't sure how long she lay there, her breath gone, her arm throbbing — but when she finally managed to push herself up and get somewhere with better cover, she couldn't see the masked guys anymore.

She swore under her breath as she pulled out her comm. Great — now she had this to deal with.

* * *

Kate and Wade were nearly back to the rendezvous point after a day spent ducking the most powerful and, frankly, the creepiest Capitolites in the area where Tivan lived, but with the parties going on, it was easier to just follow the flow of people pouring out in the streets. They kept mostly to the shadows, but they could see their rendezvous from where they were as they chatted quietly and looked the part of a couple of Capitolite partygoers to anyone who might have seen them in the side alleys.

"See, what I want to know is where he puts everything from the previous Games, since the newest stuff is on display," Kate was saying as they walked.

"Gotta be a creepy underground warehouse or something," Wade reasoned. "Guarded by goblins and magic."

"Well, I was gonna say that's just unrealistic, but considering the fact that he thinks we're zombies…" Kate said with a little dry chuckle.

"Well if we're looking for brains, we are in the _wrong area_ ," Wade said with a laugh

"So true," she said, shaking her head as she couldn't help but laugh as well. They had reached the rendezvous point by then, but she had to frown as she glanced around. "Where is everyone? I thought for sure we'd be the last ones here, since we had the farthest to travel."

Wade glanced around as well, but before he could say anything, Jan's voice crackled over the comms: "We've got a serious problem, guys. Some bozos in masks just came out of nowhere and grabbed our favorite Nightcrawler."

Kate positively froze in place, her eyes wide as she grabbed onto the brick of the nearest building and took in deep, calming breaths, trying not to drop straight into panic as she said, "grabbed, not killed," like it was a lifeline.

"What happened?" Luke asked over the comms.

"Not sure," Jan replied. "I found Sin — she's in rough shape, but she passed out on me before she could tell me anything more than there were creeps in masks. A lot of them. But they were going for a grab — Sin's got cuffs on one hand."

"Oh man," Kate muttered out, leaning even more heavily against the wall beside her as she finally gave up on not trying to panic and just let the freakout start. They'd all heard a hundred times over how dangerous it was to get captured. Mike had told them about his own experience — they'd all _seen_ the metal and prosthetics that had resulted from it. And Coulson had been sure to tell Kate and Kurt in particular the dangers of being captured after that first mission when they'd been hit with those darts….

Kate was just getting herself good and worked up when Maverick's voice broke into their communications, low and quiet and comforting — she'd totally forgotten that her shooting instructor was also in the Capitol running missions of his own.

"Hold on …. Got some suspicious-looking masked guys on the rooftops," Maverick said before they all heard the muted shot through the comms. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "They're heading to the south side. Can't get another clean shot, but I'm gonna trail them just the same. The bullet winged one of them after it killed the first guy."

"Great — keep us in the loop. I'll bring the girlfriend," Wade said with a nod as he had already looped his arm through Kate's and was halfway keeping her upright, patting her hand with his as he spoke.

"LIke I said, head toward the south wall. I'll see you there." Maverick's comm flipped off right after they heard the sound of him packing up his gear, and in a moment, he was rushing toward where the men had dragged Kurt off.

"You shouldn't call me his girlfriend over the comms," Kate said at last after a long stretch of silence, though she wasn't entirely sure why _that_ was the first thing out of her mouth… maybe it was just repetition, at this point.

"I"ll say I'm teasing if anyone gives you flack — right before I send a wooden stake through his heart," Wade said as the two of them ran south.

"Well, if you're doing that, you don't have to make excuses," Kate said, her grip on her bow practically white-knuckled as she kept pace with him.

"We'll just need some holy water and sunlight to be sure …"

"After we find my boyfriend," Kate agreed with a determined sort of nod.

When they got to the south wall, Maverick was slowly walking, his gaze on the ground as he toted his massive sniper rifle on his shoulder and stuck to the shadows, trying to follow a scant blood trail on the roadway. He glanced up for just a moment when they arrived and looked to Kate. "I'm not entirely sure which way they went. It seems to circle around a little, but you know how to track — so take your … partner and go the other way."

"Got it," Kate said with a nod, already half pulling on Wade's arm, though her gaze was on North's heavy gear. "Thought you were filling in for — um — Ronin? I didn't think he was pulling heavy-duty whatever-you-are-wearing kind of stuff?"

"I was pulling double duty," Maverick replied half-distractedly. "My team runs a little different."

Kate raised an eyebrow behind her mask, but she had other things to think about at the moment — much, _much_ more important things — so she just filed that away to ask him about later next time they hit the shooting range together and pulled Wade down the trail, remembering what she'd learned from hunting in Twelve and with Logan in the Games and trying to apply that to a non-arena cityscape as best she could as she followed what she very much hoped was a blood trail from the bad guy North tagged and not Kurt.

Finally, she spotted what she _thought_ might be signs that they'd gone into one of the nearby buildings, and she and Wade poked their heads in for a moment but saw that the whole thing was empty — eerily so. She would have suggested that they try another building until she spotted the slight red smear on the floor. "Secret tunnel or something?" she muttered, half to herself and half to Wade before she reached for her comms. "Think we found something. There's more of the blood trail here — third building from the east corner, with the crooked shutters on the northernmost window."

"Be right there; try to hold tight for just a minute," Maverick replied. "I have a neat little taser for you if you can just wait."

"You don't have to bribe me," she said with the ghost of smile.

"I just know how patient you are," he countered with a little laugh in his voice.

She wasn't going to say it over the comms, but she knew he was right — she'd only just been thinking about the knife Bobbi taught her to keep in her boot and how much work she was going to get out of it if she had to fight in the close quarters of a tunnel that she was _definitely_ about to jump into without a second thought. So she just let out a breath and nodded Wade's way. "We'll see if we can find the entrance in the meantime."

It didn't take Maverick long to catch up, since following the trail had both of them moving slow, so they hadn't really gone too far, and when he got there, he reached to a pocket low on his leg and produced a wicked-looking, palm sized device and handed it over. "Last guy I used that on broke half his teeth with the shock."

"Good," she said as she pocketed it with a nod. "I'm feeling a little mean."

"A little," Wade repeated with a significant look Mav's way even with the mask on.

Kate just gave both of them a look over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, though they couldn't quite see that, before she indicated the hidden access along the floor that she and Wade had found. "Doesn't look to be wired, so we should be able to sneak in, but Wade's insisting on going first anyway," she said.

Wade nodded a bit at that before he pulled out his katanas and popped the trap door open with one foot, clearly poised and ready to jump in—

"Wait," Maverick said, putting his hand on Wade's shoulder and pulling backward. In one of the molle pockets on his vest, he took out a little aerosol can and sprayed it into the hidden passageway. He waited for just a moment before he nodded and stepped back out of Wade's way. "Had to check."

"No nasty-nasties, then?" Wade said in a chipper tone.

"No laser triggers anyhow," Maverick replied, though he didn't put the aerosol can away yet.

"Well, alrighty then," Wade said before he dropped down into the tunnel, with Kate not far behind him, clearly angling for a fight and ready to tear apart whoever had gotten their hands on Kurt.

The three of them continued carefully and quietly down the halls, and it wasn't long before they heard the sound of voices drifting their way They couldn't see the abductors and whoever else was down there with them — yet — but they heard a feminine voice giving what sounded like a report.

"The rumors we heard from District Eleven were right," she said. "My preliminary findings suggest he hasn't been surgically altered to look different — that really _is_ a dead kid. Or at least, he _should_ be dead. I'd have to do more in-depth testing to know how they fixed _that_."

"Could they have faked his death?" asked a deeper voice.

"No," the woman said. "The devices they implanted in their arms is what sets off the cannons. When the heartbeat stops, the cannon goes off."

The man let out a low whistle. "If we'd had a catch like this before the tour — or during the Games…"

"Yes, well we have one now," she said. "And still close enough to the big show to cause substantial problems."

"Be better if we had two," the man mused. "One for testing to figure out how they did it and another to go public and cause chaos."

"No, no — this one is high profile enough ... everyone knows that face. We'll just wake him up and get him on video before we start our testing. I have something that might get him to confess everything he knows before he dies again."

"I'll want the results of the autopsy — but don't kill him too quickly. One video can be faked, but multiple?"

Kate was sure her heartbeat was going to give her away for as loud as it was coursing in her ears as she finally poked her head around the corner in time to see a stocky man standing near a tall, slender woman in a lab coat. They had plenty of guards, but Kate wasn't thinking about that, holding her breath as the lab-coated woman approached Kurt.

"Unless …" The woman paused to brush the curls out of Kurt's face for a moment, and Kate felt her stomach doing somersaults as she motioned to Maverick and Wade to join her so she could make that woman _pay_. "He'd make wonderful leverage if we kept him to ourselves. Even if Fury's gotten to the newest little victor... this could undo that."

The man paused to consider the option for a long moment before he just started to chuckle. "True. We'll get the video footage we need and move to a more secure facility for testing — and the Supreme Leader can decide what to do with him from there."

The three Tahiti operatives nearby had heard every word, and it was clear Kate was done letting these two creeps talk about Kurt like that — she'd already strung two arrows once the woman touched Kurt. But Maverick pulled her a little further into the hallway, both hands on her shoulders to catch her attention.

"Alright, kids," Maverick said in a soft whisper. "No one leaves this room alive, got it?"

"Not gonna be a problem," Kate all but growled out, and when Maverick released her, she stepped into the doorway to let both arrows fly, pinning the obnoxious woman to the wall by either shoulder. The other two weren't far behind her, rushing in even as the man in the room called for the guards to "get her," and Kate pulled out the new toy Maverick had given her to test it out on the female doctor.

"Who do you think you are, grabbing _my Elf_?" Kate said, inches from the woman's face with the taser sparking blue in her hand. But she only waited for a few seconds before she pushed the taser into the woman's side anyway, surprised at just how much juice it packed. The pinned woman bucked and writhed, nearly tearing free of Kate's arrows from the shock.

"Don't waste your time, Hawkeye," Maverick called out just before he pulled out a side arm and dropped two guys running for the door. "If any of them were going to talk, they'd have done it by now."

Kate glanced his way to see that he and Wade had things well in hand with the head creep, the one who had told the woman not to kill Kurt too quickly — and a few others that had arrived for backup. "Fine," she said with a little nod before she pulled out the knife in her boot and plunged it into the woman's chest, glaring hard the entire time. "And here I've been practicing interrogations with my other mentor." Her chest was still heaving as she looked at the dead doctor before she remembered the camera in her pocket from chronicling Tivan's collection and snapped a picture — so she had a way to ID the woman later when she made Hill or Coulson or whoever did the debriefing tell her what was going on here and who these people were.

But after she'd put the camera and knife away and finally turned to Kurt, she lost a lot of the venom as she dropped down beside him. He was unconscious, but definitely still breathing at least. They'd removed his mask as well as his shirt — and it looked like the bad guys had wrapped him up a bit to keep him alive, but there was _blood_ on the bandages, and she went from venom to concern in a heartbeat as she ran her hands over his chest and his face and…

She grabbed his hand in hers and leaned over to kiss his forehead before she turned back to the other two and pulled out her bow. "Yeah, this needs to be over yesterday. We need to get him home," she said with steel in her voice as she started taking shots two at a time to help drop the bad guys faster. " _Now_."

"Deadpool — do the thing," Maverick called out as he fired shots to keep the creeps off of Kate and Kurt. "And you — just .. stay low," he added to Kate as Wade all but giggled in anticipation.

He'd had one sword out, but when he pulled out the other one to really get to work, he grinned in a way that Kate could not recall seeing him do before he got started.

At first, it seemed like the way Wade was twirling his swords was a bit of obnoxious showmanship, that was meant to intimidate the bad guys with his speed … but he hadn't even gotten full throttle yet, and when the first bad guy took a shot his way, he put it into high gear and began working his way around the room with the swords singing through the air as they spun. Anyone or anything that got too close was sliced, and Wade, for his part, simply powered through it all with a determined look on his face that didn't stop until the last creep dropped and then — well. He just flicked both swords outward for a moment and stooped over to tear off a lab coat from the nearest assistant to clean his blades.

"Okay, your turn," Wade said. "I don't think Katie-bug is going to be able to carry him out — so rock paper scissors for who gets to cradle the Elf."

"I'm not … no," Maverick said, shaking his head. "You carry him, I'll cover. Come on, I have an extraction point not far from here."

"Careful," Kate half gasped out Wade's way when he approached her and Kurt. She'd never seen that particular show, and she was still a little… shocked would be putting it mildly.

Wade knelt down next to the two of them and pulled his mask off to put it on Kurt. "Don't worry, little Hawk," Wade said as he slipped his arms under Kurt to pick him up in a bridal carry. As he picked him up, he gave Kurt a little kiss on the forehead. "He's perfectly safe with me, ma'am."

"Just… okay, just be careful. He's banged up," Kate said even as she got to her feet with her bow out and glanced around the room full of bodies. "Let's get out of here."

With that, Maverick quickly headed out of the room, with the three kids in his wake. It really was a simple matter of sticking to the designated route out, particularly since Mav was going to his original pick up anyhow.

When they got outside the city, and just inside the treeline, Wade set Kurt down for a moment as they waited for the pick up and Maverick made his way over to the two lovebirds to check Kurt over for a moment himself.

There wasn't much he could do, other than double-check the pulse and the fact that he was breathing, but as Wade walked 'the perimeter' North handed the aerosol can he'd used earlier to Kate. "So. I understand I missed your birthday," he said as he pressed it into her hands. "I'll bet you can come up with a good use for that, and they'll just give me more later anyhow."

She looked down at the can for a second before she started to grin. "Don't worry," she said quietly. "I won't tell anyone you're a softie."

North matched her grin. "Really, it's fine. I don't mind if people know," he said. "You remind me of an older version of my daughter — she's a troublemaker too."

"Better keep an eye on her, then," Kate said, the smile widening as she slipped the can into her quiver with the hand that wasn't holding Kurt's. "Make sure she knows how to shoot straight."

"She's been shooting better than most people I've met since she was eight," he said.

"Jealous," Kate said with a teasing grin.

"I can tell," he replied before he looked down at Kurt. "He'll be fine. Really. He's a little banged up, but he'll do okay. I'll bet part of this is just from being run down."

"Yeah, two straight weeks of missions and then this — I feel like taking a nap myself," Kate admitted, her gaze on Kurt as she squeezed his hand with hers. She paused, then added, "I'm just glad they didn't get to do any of that stuff they were talking about. I… kinda wished we were taking them in so I could get properly... _mad_... and interrogate them." He couldn't see it, but she looked a bit ashamed of herself for it. "I think I lost my temper."

"You had every right to," Maverick replied. "But … get your kisses and hand-holding out of the way before we get back all the same."

"Be easier if he was with it more," Kate said with a sigh, though she settled down in the grass next to Kurt all the same.

"Might ease up in a few weeks," he replied.

"You _have_ met the vampire warden, haven't you?" Kate made a face.

"I have, repeatedly. But..." He stopped, took in a deep breath, and looked around them for a moment. "Changing of the guard."

She made a point to double-check her comms before she leaned in a bit. "Insider info?" she asked, her tone positively dancing with excitement.

"Nah, I can just read a calendar. The tour is over," he said, his smile growing a bit. "You should have better staff around for about five months."

"Helps to have backup with Charles," Kate had to agree. "And no offense, but I do miss Bobbi. Only so many times I can kick your butt shooting and call it training," she teased lightly.

"Well once would be good start," he shot right back. "But she should be back pretty quickly. They're sending the victors off and back to their own districts first thing in the morning."

"Hopefully Kurt and Peter will be with it by then. Bobbi promised to fill us in on how Logan's doing."

He frowned just a moment and shook his head. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Yeah, that's the hope anyway," Kate said — though she was distracted from the conversation when Kurt stirred the slightest bit, and she put all her attention into her semi-conscious Elf until the transport arrived to get the four of them.

* * *

 _Triskellion_

* * *

Coulson was very nearly livid as he received the incoming reports from his agents in the field. Jan's initial report from what Sin had been able to tell her was worrisome enough, but once Carol had picked up the three that went after Kurt and those three had made their report on everything they'd overheard — Coulson had gone from suspicious to downright angry.

Someone, somehow, had managed to find out about the Tahiti program. And what's more, they had specifically targeted his kids, injured three and captured one. And this was completely unacceptable.

He had both Fitz and Skye crunching numbers together one room over, running through the communications and logs as to who knew what and when they had access last to the information available. This had been a tightly controlled operation — only those with Tahiti access knew _anything_. Not even the victors knew what was planned for the tour; they only knew they were playing distraction as usual.

So that meant it had to be someone on one of Coulson's teams — either his Tahiti team or his SHIELD team — and he didn't like either of those options.

He had his suspicion, of course. He'd never liked Essex, and this seemed like the sort of thing he would do. The guy was just out to expand his own knowledge base and further his own research… but, the more Coulson looked into it, the more he knew that Essex wasn't behind anything that had gone wrong. At least not entirely. Essex had spent the first half of the tour prepping his infiltration team for the Capitol — Darkholme and Odinson had actually done an impressive job there — and the second half of it taking care of Peter after his encounter at Viper's home. The young man was finally responding to treatment and was expected to make a full recovery. Not to mention treating Clint after the encounter with yet _another_ player in One — but the fact remained that Essex had simply been too busy to give anyone any useful information.

Coulson was practically pacing as he set down the intel for a moment. This meant it had to be someone else — a trainer, someone on the medical staff, or someone on his team. He just couldn't imagine any of them feeding information to any of the groups SHIELD was fighting, not when he and Hill had personally vetted anyone who had access to Tahiti secrets.

Finally, Coulson slipped next door to find Fitz and Skye with their heads together, talking in quiet undertones in terminology that frankly went right over Coulson's head, though they both looked up when he entered.

"Anything?" he asked.

"Well," Fitz said, straightening up a bit as he glanced at Skye. "We've certainly narrowed down the window of time when the message was sent, but Skye's having a bit of trouble finding a matching identifier. We haven't seen this personal code before."

"So no point of origin?" Coulson asked with a frown.

"The best we can give you is that it came from a SHIELD building," Skye said with a sigh. "Our guy piggybacked official communications to send his message.

"That really doesn't narrow it down at all," Coulson said with a little glare. "Don't you have some kind of … I don't know. _Something_ to trace it back?"

"I'm working on it," Skye promised, indicating the second laptop that seemed to be crunching numbers on an algorithm independently of what the two of them were doing on the first computer. "Right now, we're working on tracking the responder code, though — that wasn't nearly as well-hidden."

"Right — we figure if we can trace the source of that, we can work backwards from the responder code to the original message, since the more straightforward search isn't working," Fitz agreed.

"Well you've got about a day to figure out the finer points," Coulson said to Skye. "It needs to be well in hand — and I'd like a few programs that will autotrace while you're on your new assignment."

"It should only take another day tops before…" Skye trailed off and looked up at Coulson. "Wait. _What_ new assignment?"

"I'll tell you about it later. Right now, work up the autotracers, _please_ ," he said. "You'll … well. You're going to be doing a little teaching assignment under Director Fury's order. Should be minimal risk."

"Is this because I accidentally broke May's practice gun, because I swear, that was just a fluke thing and I have _no_ idea how it happened."

Coulson had to smile at that the slightest. "No, nothing like that. This is actually a high priority project of Fury's. May has nothing to do with this assignment. Though I'll be sure to tell her you were concerned about retaliation from an accident. I'm sure she'll take it well knowing that you're well out of reach."

Fitz let out a low whistle and jostled Skye's shoulder with his. "Lucky," he said, though Skye didn't seem to share the sentiment.

"Oh, okay. Well ... I'll start packing?"

"Relax," Coulson said, shaking his head, a little smirk on his face. "I think you'll _like_ this assignment."

"Yeah, you and I have different definitions of fun, AC," Skye pointed out before she turned her attention to the second laptop to consider what she'd need for an autotrace.

Coulson couldn't stop the smirk from widening the slightest. "I think I know a little better now what you'd find entertaining."

"So those two weeks stuck together weren't a total waste," she teased with a smirk of her own as she pulled a tablet close and started making notations with one hand. "Want me to send you what we have so far? It's a few buildings and a code that's totally not in our system, but…"

"Please," he said, still smirking widely.

"Already done," Fitz declared with a grin as he leaned back from the computer. "If you'd like to see a work of pure genius, I defer you to your email."

"He means our algorithm, not the bad guys," Skye explained with a smirk.

"As if there was any doubt," Fitz replied, sounding supremely insulted that there could possibly have been a mixup.

Coulson just shook his head and leaned over Fitz's shoulder to see what it was that he had up on the screen. "What am I looking at here?"

Fitz indicated a long string of numbers, several of which kept changing as the program ran down possibilities. "We're cross-checking access points against known transmissions," he explained. "And then comparing them to the original transmission — which, by the way, was _not_ easy to isolate, I can tell you that much."

"The last set of numbers here is the code the guy used," Skye put in helpfully. "It's not a recognized SHIELD code, or even one from the Capitol, but it might just be new."

Coulson looked a little closer even as Fitz tried to tell him that it would take some time to decode, and after just a moment, he narrowed his eyes and swore under his breath.

"Hey now, there is no need for vulgarity — we're moving as fast as we can," Fitz said, drawing up his shoulders with a frown creased into his forehead.

"It's _Ward_ ," Coulson said with a deep frown, not even looking at Fitz before he suddenly straightened and went to work. "Lock down. No one goes anywhere until I can nail him down."

"Ward?" Fitz and Skye repeated, both with similarly shocked looks on their faces as Skye added, "Are you sure?"

"That's his code. I've seen him use it on at least two different missions," Coulson said before he looked up at Skye. "It's a good thing you're going to be hidden away for a while."

"What, you don't think I want to be there to see this thing go down? If it even _is_ Ward?" she countered, hands on her hips and clearly angling to be part of the fight anyway.

"It's him," Coulson said as he headed toward the door. "Lock. Down." He stalked out of the lab and was partway up the stairs to the next floor when his radio went off with May asking if he needed backup. At first, he ignored the call, but when he opened the door to step onto the ground floor, she was there waiting with her arms crossed over her chest.

"So. Why the lockdown?" she asked pointedly.

"We have to find Ward. Now," Coulson said.

She raised an eyebrow at that but didn't argue, instead falling into step with him and pulling out two sidearms that he didn't even know she had on her.

When they did find Ward, he was where he usually was this time of day — with a punching bag and working up a good rhythm, though he stopped when he saw the two of them. "You guys need help? Heard the lockdown alert — what's going on?" he asked.

Coulson looked beyond irritated as he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, May moved on Ward. She came right at him with a jab, and he belatedly got his guard up to try and block her as Coulson finally started to speak. "You're under arrest," Coulson said, drawing his gun as the two soon to be former teammates started to fight in earnest. "For distribution of highly classified information to an enemy entity."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Ward said even as May hit him hard in the gut and he doubled over so that she was easily able to follow it up with an elbow to the back of his neck that had him seeing stars enough for her to pin him down and yank his arms behind his back.

"Cuffs," she called out Coulson's way, and he holstered his weapon after he tossed her a pair.

"Come on, Coulson, you know this is crap. Whatever low life gave you my name, it's got to be a ploy to break up the team or something," Ward argued once he had his wind back since, clearly, he couldn't get out of May's pin, so appealing to Coulson was his best shot.

"It wasn't your name, Ward," Coulson replied. "It was your personal passcode. On materials that _you_ shouldn't have even been looking at."

At that, Ward fell silent and settled into a glare Coulson's way as May yanked him to his feet — though as soon as he was upright, he tried to muscle out of her grip, only getting part of the way there before May just shot him in the back and looked over at Coulson with one raised eyebrow as she holstered her weapon.

"Icer," she said simply before she stepped over Ward's still form, prodding him with the tip of her boot.

"We'll get him into a nice, cozy cell and interrogate later," Coulson said with a nod.

"What did he get into, anyway?" May asked as she moved to simply sling Ward over her shoulders.

Coulson slipped under Ward's other shoulder so that May wasn't carrying the load alone and gave her a _look._ She knew he wouldn't answer her with anything until they were in a more secured area, but when he told her that Ward was responsible for the ambush on the TAHITI kids, she openly stared at him for a moment in shock.

"I have no idea who he's working for," Coulson admitted.

"Whoever it is ordered an ambush on sixteen-year-olds, Phil," she said once she had her feet back underneath her. "Ward _knew_ the ages and some of the identities from working with Skye."

"I know. I just don't know who else knows," Coulson replied. "And we need to find out fast. Although I don't entirely agree with it, Skye will be out of the picture for a while too. Just so we'll be able to isolate and prove she wasn't involved as well — just in case anything else comes up or the inevitable 'terrorist' accusations are flung around."

May nodded. "Once he's awake, let me know. I'm sure Hill will want to be there for the interrogation too, so tell her she's invited if she's quick enough."

"What? And let her have all the fun?" Coulson said with a little smirk. "You know how she likes to hog the best assignments. She can read the reports on this one."

May grinned his way and waved him off. "Good luck. You know where to find me," she said as she headed off to go make sure no one knew where Ward was being held until she had words with him alone.

* * *

 _Tahiti Medical Wing_

* * *

As soon as the transport arrived at the Tahiti wing, Claire was there to meet them and to look Kurt over, though Kate was glad it was Claire and not any other doctor who was doing the preliminary examination, because Claire didn't get as annoyed when Kate all but hovered nearby, listening to the rundown — broken ribs, concussion, impressive bruising and a few nasty cuts, but "nothing serious," which had Kate giving Claire a _look_.

And besides, by that time, Kurt was more or less conscious, and he'd been holding her hand the entire way back, so Kate wasn't about to let him go anywhere without her.

"Sin okay?" Kurt mumbled Claire's way.

"If you weren't in such bad shape, I'd smother you," Sin called out from across the ward in answer. "Stupid chivalrous idiot."

"She's fine," Claire said dryly as she got Kurt settled in and plucked a small penlight from her coat pocket to shine it briefly in Kurt's eyes before she started a more efficient check of his injuries, probing his ribs and changing the bandages his captors had hastily tied — and ignoring the fact that when Kurt caught Kate's darted glances at his now-bared chest, he wiggled his eyebrows with a small smile that had Kate blushing madly.

When Claire was done, Kurt leaned back in the pillows a bit, though as Claire gathered her supplies, Kate slid into the space she'd just occupied to pull up a seat, still a little pink.

"You enjoyed that," he teased in a hoarse sort of voice.

"Shut up, Kurt," she said, though it didn't stop her from resting her hand on his arm and clearly making herself comfortable. "You scared the living daylights out of me."

"It was not my intention," he said gently. "I was sure that I could have gotten away from them … they just … got the drop on me. At least... I think they got the drop on me."

"Yeah, they got the drop on you alright," she agreed, reaching up to put a hand on his cheek for a moment before she bit her lip and pulled back. "It looks like you broke Sin's arm, though, so… prepare for teasing and complaining for the rest of, you know, forever."

"Well I did push her off of a building," Kurt reasoned. "I suppose it would have been unrealistic to hope that she was completely unharmed."

"Always gotta play the hero, huh?" she teased him gently, rubbing her thumb over the knuckles of his hand.

"At least the rest of the mission went well enough," he said as the tips of his ears turned a bit pink.

"Kurt, I really don't care about the rest of the mission," she told him frankly. "And if there weren't cameras, I'd climb in there with you and sit on you to make sure you can never leave and scare me like that again. You have _no_ idea what those creeps were _saying_ back there."

"I'm guessing it wasn't about how dashing I looked beating them down?"

"No," she said with a little smirk. "But I'm sure you were very, very dashing."

Kate was so focused on Kurt that she nearly startled out of her seat when Dr. Essex appeared just behind her. He very gently rested his hand on her shoulder as he stepped around her to check Kurt's lines and take some vitals himself without a word spoken. "How long has he been awake?" Essex asked as he had Kurt lean forward a bit so he could examine the back of his head.

"About forty-five minutes. He woke up when we were almost home," Kate replied, a bit surprised at how, well, _doctor-ly_ he was acting. And not even a little snippy about their behavior.

Essex was frowning as he gently pressed on the obvious goose-egg on the back of Kurt's head and he looked the young man in the face. "Is this terribly painful?"

Kurt took in a bit of a breath. "Sore," he admitted.

Essex stopped as soon as he heard the sharp breath that the young man had taken in. "I would like to see a few scans to make sure you don't have anything beyond a mild concussion," he said as he tipped Kurt's head up and checked his eyes with a frown. "Are you dizzy at all?"

Kurt shook his head lightly. "I was at first, but it's fine now, really."

Essex let out a sigh and looked over to Claire. "Would you please make sure he gets a head CT before he goes back to sleep?"

Claire nodded his way. "Of course."

At that, Essex turned to Kate with as close to a reasonable doctor-ly expression as she'd ever seen from him. "Have you checked in on your other friends here as well? They've been short on visitors with the rest of the crowd out and about."

"Not yet," Kate said. "I came in with Kurt — I was part of the rescue team. But the rest of my boys are on the list," she added with a sharp sort of nod, already looking toward the rest of the group.

Essex nodded thoughtfully as he looked around the room at the other occupants. "Then I'll see you all tomorrow, as long as that CT comes through clean."

Kate and Kurt glanced at each other and then at Essex, who swept out of the medical bay without so much as a word about the fact that they'd been holding hands. "What…" Kate shook her head the slightest bit.

"I know you guys hate him — and I get it, I do," Claire said as she came over to take Kurt for his scan. "But he is an amazingly talented physician."

"Must've missed all the classes on bedside manner," Kate grumbled.

"Yeah, that's it. Not that he's just a straight up psycho in his spare time," Peter called her way from his bed.

Kate glanced his way at that and, since Kurt was going to get his head looked at anyway, just squeezed Kurt's hand quickly before she went over to her other friend. "How's he been with you? I mean, you've been cooped up here longer than anyone else."

"I mean, while I've been awake he's been — ah … I think Claire called it 'clinical'? But he hasn't been like … lurking much."

"What about you, Clint?" Kate called over at the last of her boys, who was bandaged across the chest but otherwise looked fine.

Clint waved his hand. "Honestly? I couldn't say. I have vague recollections of being tortured, but that was probably the poison. So…" He frowned a bit and shrugged.

"Of course, I haven't seen him around any garlic either," Peter said quietly.

"And he never leaves this place to get any sunlight," Sin put in with a little smirk.

"We're pretty convinced his desk doubles as a coffin too," Peter said with a growing smile.

"And he _is_ a doctor. All those blood samples for 'researching the Tahiti drugs'..." Clint just trailed off and let his grin say the rest.


	36. Vacation Benefit

**Notes: Aaaaaaaand we are now officially past the victory tour! *long, heavy sigh of relief* Now it's time to start picking up the pieces and start hurtling these kids toward the next Games… and the eventual revolution. (Come on, we're not gonna let Thanos STAY in power. What do you take us for?)**

* * *

 **Chapter 36: "Vacation Benefits"**

* * *

 _January 16_

 _Office of the President_

* * *

As Fury waited in the ornately decorated room outside the president's office, opposite the desk of his current unlucky secretary, he could hear the muffled voices of Thanos' children in the room next door. And considering how well-fortified the walls were, that likely meant they were arguing with one another. Again.

Whatever the meeting had been about, though, it wasn't long, and when the door opened and the three favored children of Thanos swept out of the room, it was with both princesses looking murderous, while Ronan looked like he just might smile if not for the fact that he was still maintaining his best intimidating glare at the rest of the people in the room.

It wasn't hard to guess what the conversation had been about, though, since Quill had reported that the three had been arguing over not only how to split Selene's business empire among themselves but also which of them would be allowed to punish her for holding back their cut of the profits. Clearly, Ronan had won Thanos' favor on this matter, though considering his specialization, that wasn't all that surprising.

Thanos' little secretary motioned Fury next into the room, and when Fury arrived, it was to find the president leaning forward in his throne, clearly deep in thought about something before he seemed to finally notice Fury was there and looked him over once with a slight frown on his face.

"Your newest victor is unpredictable," Thanos said in an almost accusatory tone.

"He is certainly handling his new station in life differently. But it was that unpredictability that got him through the Games alive. I'm sure we can make a few … adjustments," Fury said with an even tone.

Thanos nodded at that, still looking thoughtful. "You have until the Quarter Quell to get him compliant."

Fury nodded slowly but was sure to give an affirmative as he waited for whatever else the president had to say. "I'll see to it personally."

"Good. I don't need to tell you that this year's Games should be free of distractions." Thanos looked almost amused as he said, "The scuffle with Selene was entertaining, but only for so long. If the boy continues to play unchecked in affairs over his head, he may start to think he holds _sway_ in my palace and my Capitol."

"I'll be sure that he understands his place," Fury promised.

Thanos nodded again and leaned back in his throne as he seemed to still be mulling something over. Finally, he said, "He could be useful," though it wasn't clear if the comment was directed at Fury or if he was simply thinking out loud. But then all at once Thanos looked Fury's way again. "This... Quarter Quell — I have to admit, the premise is intriguing, but last year's tributes were, frankly, underwhelming by the end. And I do get tired of replacing Head Gamemakers."

"I can say for certain that the pool we're looking at now is far more … competitive than in Games past," Fury said carefully.

"It had better be, for your sake," Thanos said.

"We found a way to deal with the problem with Victor Creed as well," Fury said, knowing that out of all of the 'younger' victors, Creed had been a liability for far too long — and the fine line that they'd had to walk to deal with him last year was one that had the Royals' attention in all the wrong ways.

Thanos raised both eyebrows as he looked Fury over. "I suppose we could try this your way, but you should know my children have already proposed methods of their own to solve that problem," he said with a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

"I'd like to make sure that his sister, makes it into the Games this year," Fury said. "If all the information is correct, she's formidable, and he's very protective of her. I thought it a fitting punishment for his behavior in recent years."

Thanos looked honestly amused at the prospect. "Fitting indeed," he agreed with a smile.

"It might be interesting to see Creed actually trying on behalf of one of his charges," Fury continued. "Seeing as he's tried to alienate every major donation source since he won."

"Yes, let him feel the consequences of his short-sightedness," Thanos mused. "When he comes crawling for donations, he'll find the Capitol unforgiving, I expect. It could be amusing to see desperation on him."

"I'll be sure that we keep a camera and an agent on him in case he gets desperate and threatens the wrong person."

"If he does — his title won't save him," Thanos said with a wicked grin. "Though if that's the case, hold off on the arrest until after the Games are over — it would be a welcome distraction in the interim as our next victor heals to see an old victor crumble."

Fury inclined his head toward Thanos in agreement. "Of course."

"And, director," Thanos said, turning to Fury to give him the full force of his gaze. "If these Games fail to deliver — if you give me more tributes like last year's, you will be joining him."

"Outside of a few more average tributes, bloodthirsty has been a requirement this year, sir."

Thanos nodded at that and waved his hand to indicate to Fury that he could leave. "Don't disappoint me, director," he said in parting.

As Fury left the president's office, he waited until he was well out of the reach of cameras and recording equipment before he went to his communicator. "Coulson, get that team member of yours ready to go. We need to move on this fast."

"Yes, sir," was the quick reply before, a moment later, Coulson added, "She's packed and ready."

"Have you told her what the assignment is yet?" Fury asked.

"Not yet — we've had a few other things come up."

"Keep her in the dark," Fury said before he paused and actually stopped in his tracks from the quick pace he'd been moving. "What kind of other things came up?"

There was another pause before Coulson replied, "Not over the comms, sir."

"I'll be right there," Fury said before he swore to himself and picked up his quick pace again.

When he arrived at Coulson's office, his team member wasn't there — instead, she was waiting outside the secure room — but Maria Hill _was_ there, and she looked agitated. "We have a problem," she said as soon as the door was closed behind Fury.

"Multiple problems, it seems," Coulson added with a deeply settled frown. "The most pressing of which we just discovered this morning — Victoria Hand was found dead in her apartment, and we don't have any leads on her killer. Forensics has swept the place, but all we've found so far is what we believe to be the murder weapon."

"Which someone decided to put in the dishwasher and run it on the longest cycle," Hill added with a look that was both a glare and almost half a smirk at the cheek of their unknown intruder.

"She was reading over the workup of the possible tributes for the Quarter Quell when it happened — the files were still on her desk, but we can't be sure her killer didn't commit them to memory or take pictures," Coulson said. "But that information might be incidental compared to what a member of my team has been leaking."

Fury frowned as he waited for Coulson to explain, already sure that he wouldn't like what he heard.

The normally stoic agent looked honestly _angry_ as he explained, "Special Agent Grant Ward, Level _Eight,_ has been feeding information to an unknown entity. An entity that staged an ambush on two of our Tahiti operatives and managed to kidnap one of them before his friends arrived and killed any witnesses." He shook his head. "It could have been worse — and it still might be. Ward had access to a _lot_ of the Tahiti program."

"Do you have any _good_ news for me?" Fury asked with a clearly irritated tone.

"The rest of the missions run in the Capitol were a success, and aside from the districts you already know about, so were the ones run during the tour," Hill said. "The intel we've received on Tivan indicates he suspects something about our tribute choices. He's been doing psychological evaluations of his own, looking for patterns."

"He won't be relevant for much longer anyhow," Fury said with a wave.

"He'll try to use it if he thinks he's losing his job. He's already proven how desperate he is to cling to that," Coulson said. "Thankfully, he doesn't have enough to back up the threat, but it could be enough to spark rumors and curiosity from other parties."

"I'd suggest sending a team to set him on the wrong path — or feed him false information, at least until after the Quarter Quell," Hill put in.

"You're on that then, Hill," Fury said distractedly before he turned to Coulson. "Where's your leak, and what have you learned there?"

"He's in a detention facility far removed from anything even remotely close to Tahiti," Coulson said. "So far, the only thing he's given us is that he works for Hydra, or some organization that _thinks_ it's Hydra continuing on from the Civil War, at any rate."

"We don't follow any ancient laws on torture — get what you can however you can," Fury said. "I need to go give our newest liability an attitude adjustment."

Coulson looked toward Hill. "May invited you, if you want to help her," he said simply, which just got Hill to nod.

"Good luck in Seven," Hill said Fury's way, and there was no mistaking the smirk on her face. "I hear it's chilly this time of year." With that, the three of them parted ways —Coulson and May headed to where Ward was being kept as Fury went to go collect his travel partner.

When Fury got up to the lab, Skye was waiting with Fitz and Simmons, and all three of them fell silent on his arrival.

"Grab your gear," Fury said to Skye as he stalked through the lab.

The young woman looked positively frightened as she wordlessly grabbed her bags and gave Fitzsimmons a look that was a clear 'goodbye' as she followed after Fury.

There was, of course, a private transport waiting and ready to go when they got to the flight deck, and Fury didn't say a word until they were nearly at their destination, leaving the young woman to the mercy of her imagination as to what was going on.

She never looked out the window on the way, and just before landing, Fury finally spoke up. "You might want to zip up. It's cold out there."

She let out a sound almost like a squeak before she did just that, zipping up her hoodie and her jacket before she glanced out the window to see the trees and mountains that were a dead giveaway as to where they were. "Is this some kind of… punishment or… execution or…."

"We'll see how well you do your job," Fury replied with what would pass on anyone else as a glare.

"Which is… what exactly?" she asked tentatively. "Coulson didn't exactly go heavy on the details."

"You have two weeks to teach my newest pet project how to get around the security protocols on the palace."

"Two weeks?" she repeated, a bit wide-eyed. "That took me _ages_ to work out on my own-"

"Which is why you're perfect to teach it. You already know how. You just need to make sure he can do it too."

She glanced uncertainly out the window. "Does… does he even know his way around a computer?"

Fury just gave her a look before he glanced out the window again. "What do you think?"

She swallowed convulsively a few times and nodded. "Right. Yeah. Okay. Two weeks. Great. Good. Okay. I'll ... make it work."

When they got out of the transport, the wind was blowing straight out of the north, bone-chillingly cold as it blew snow across their path. Both of them had to lean into the wind and keep their heads down as they trekked through the town and down several roads until they found themselves in a protected kind of cove in front of a big, heavy door.

"You'll be staying here," Fury told her before he knocked once and simply pushed the door open. "Timeline moved up," Fury called out as Logan stood up to see who was barging in.

Skye just… stared at the newest victor, completely taken aback and clearly not having expected anything like _this_ for her teaching assignment. Or her living arrangements.

Fury pulled her inside and closed the door behind them. "This is Skye; she'll be starting off your training," Fury said. "When I get back, we'll need to have the _official_ talk on how much trouble you're in with the Royals."

"So they got over the novelty already then?" Logan said with a little smirk as he made his way over to them. "Damn."

"Just ... be reasonable for Skye, she's trying to help," Fury said. "And when you get back to the Capitol, you better remember your manners and the fact that things have not changed. _At all_. Not really."

Logan nodded once and looked between the two of them before Fury turned to Skye. "You gonna be alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay," Skye said in a higher-pitched voice than usual. "I'll ... see you in two weeks."

Fury gave her a _look_ before he shook his head, turned right back around, and left into the howling, cold wind.

"Couple extra rooms upstairs to the left. I'm on the right," Logan said as he turned back around to stoke up the fire. "Pick one you like and try to relax."

"Oh. Okay." Skye stared around the place for a good long while before she finally got her legs moving again. "Thanks." With that, she grabbed her bags and hurried along to find a room, trying very, very hard to look professional and not red-faced, though that was pretty hard to do.

* * *

 _January 17_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Bobbi was in a _great_ mood when she set foot in the Tahiti wing, grinning to herself and clearly more relaxed than she had been in a long time. Coulson had told her on her arrival at SHIELD that Selene had been arrested that morning — by a couple of Ronan's lieutenants. So she was likely either dead or dying by now.

Of course, Coulson was sure to tell her to take the news with a grain of salt, since the royals were already divvying up Selene's business among themselves, and the only reason business had stopped was that they were too busy determining just how much money they'd been cheated out of — and determining just how they were going to run things _their_ way — to care about actually, well, running things.

But that wouldn't last forever — and Bobbi was determined to enjoy it while it did. And with such a good mood surrounding her, the first thing she did was head to the shooting range to see if she could surprise her favorite archer.

But he wasn't there. And he wasn't in the training room, or the cafeteria, or the rec room, or anywhere else, which meant he had to be in the med bay; that was the only place left she hadn't checked.

Since the victors hadn't been in on what was going on during the victory tour, Bobbi was surprised when she arrived to find that not only Clint but three other kids were there, in various states of recovery. Sin was just there to get one last check up on her mild concussion, her arm in a cast and a look of annoyance on her face at having to _be_ there. Peter was still hooked up to a few monitors, and Bobbi had to frown at how pale he was, though if she'd been around during the tour, she would have known that he was actually showing more color than he had for days. Kurt was resting peacefully, his head and chest bandaged — and there was Clint, actively arguing with Claire about whether or not he should stay in the med bay any longer.

"Look, you said yourself it was out of my system after twenty-four hours," Clint argued.

"That's not the only concern — you still haven't recovered from the surgery to remove the bullet in the first place," Claire shot right back, hands on her hips and clearly having none of Clint's nonsense.

"Sounds like you might need to go back in and pull his head out," Bobbi said as she headed his way with a smile. "I leave you for five minutes, and you end up with a gunshot and … poisoned? Really?"

"It happened at the same time," Clint said with a wave. "It's not like I went out, got poisoned, got better, and then went back out and got shot. That would be a horrible track record." He made a face to accentuate his point before he switched gears and flat-out grinned her way. "Long time no see, Bobbi. You look great."

"That's because I'm pretty sure that was the best trip to the Capitol I've ever had," she said as she took a seat on his bed, facing him.

"Really?" He leaned away from Claire and blatantly ignored her as he beamed at Bobbi. "What happened — really good late Christmas present?"

"Oh yeah, you know," she said, grinning. "Murder and mayhem in a roundabout way. That and Victor Creed was MIA for the first two days, so that was pleasant."

"Sounds like," he said, nodding his agreement before he grinned wider and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

She just grinned wider and stole a proper kiss before he could lean back again. "So how'd this happen?"

He shrugged lightly but didn't drop her gaze. "Details are a little sketchy on that, Bob. Honestly. There was a black-clad assassin involved, who shot me with a bullet laced with poison, and then that was the worst hurt I've had _in my life_ for about twenty-four hours, so nobody's really taking my word for anything that happened while I was half-delusional. Apparently, Steve couldn't even carry me right, so I guess that makes my testimony null and void." His tone was light but his expression clearly read that he was annoyed.

"That sounds more like Charles' territory than anything else," Bobbi said. "And he should be here later."

"Good, because if it was who I think it was? And I really think I'm right on this, Bobbi. I really do. But if it was? We've got _problems_ ," he said in a low whisper, his eyes wide. She held his gaze for a moment before he let out a frustrated noise and waved his hand.

"The last few weeks have been wild," she said when it was clear he didn't have anything further to say outside of just generally looking annoyed about whatever had happened. "Ups and downs all the way through. It's ridiculous."

"Yeah, well, it looks like it ended on an upswing for you at least," he said, gaining back some of his grin.

"The last part was … pretty spectacular," she admitted. "It was even dinner and a show."

"See, now I have to throw out all my plans. Whatever happened clearly upstages Clint Eastwood and some kitchen scraps," Clint said in a little whisper with a troublemaking look in his eyes.

"I might have to disagree," she said with a smile that matched his in trouble. "It's not so much what you do as it is who you're with."

"So I'll pick you up after training?" he offered. "I'll even dress nicer. I've got… three shirts, and one of them is even decent."

"I am so tired of dressing up," she said, shaking her head at him. "I'm game for sweatpants at this point."

"Great. Sweatpants, Clint Eastwood, and 'Ro said she could swing a jello dessert from the kitchen that the ladies _may_ make too much of and need to get rid of the extras somehow. Who knows where it'll go." He grinned. "It's a mystery." With that, he swung his legs around and got to his feet. "What say we take a walk and call it physical therapy?" he teased.

"Lead the way," she said, offering her arm for him to lean on.

He grinned even wider at her the entire way out of the med bay, and they made it down a few halls with him just smiling her way before he had to spill on some of the stuff she'd missed. "Did you know our resident vampire actually can _doctor_ when he wants to?" he asked, and she didn't miss that he'd said it when they were in a hallway close to Essex's office.

"I did know that, as a matter of fact," she said. "He's very good at his profession."

"Yeah, that's what people keep saying. Talented doctor, smart physician, pain in my… well. You know the rest."

She shook her head and pulled him around a corner so she could give him a squeeze. "It's so nice to be back."

"Yeah, missed you too, Bobbi," he admitted as he wrapped her up in a proper hug before he suddenly stopped and straightened. "Oh — hey — waitaminnut. I've got something for you," he said as his grin got that much wider.

"Did you leave it somewhere hard to reach, or should I search you for it?" she asked, almost straight-faced. Almost.

"See, now I wish I had it on me, but nah, it's in my digs," he said. "At least, I think it still is. Told Steve to put it there."

"Well, you want to just meet up with me later so you can properly prepare?"

Clint considered this for a second before he grinned. "Yeah, I think I like that plan." He leaned over to steal a quick kiss. "Think I like you when you're in a good mood. And here I thought you'd be cranky coming back from the Capitol.

"Normally, you would be right," she said with a nod. "See you in a little while." She turned to walk away, grinning to herself.

He didn't wait long to catch up to her again, this time more properly dressed in less med-bay-issue clothes — jeans and a purple tee shirt and a hoodie he hadn't zipped up all the way. "Excuse me, miss, but are you interested in a movie and a little dinner company?" he asked with a sideways grin.

She gave him an easy once over, grinning wider as he got closer to her. "I think that'd be an acceptable way to spend the evening."

He chuckled a bit and offered her his arm as they headed to the rec room together — which she noted he'd somehow managed to clear out.

"Is this where I frisk you?" she asked.

He grinned and closed the door with his foot, giving her an easy shrug in answer. "You're the SHIELD agent here. I'm just the thief with the goods on his person."

"That sounds suspiciously like a confession, Mr. Barton," she said, laughing at him just a bit.

"If I tell you it was part of my cover, does that ruin the roguish image? Because then I won't tell you that," he replied easily as he pulled her onto the couch with him, practically toppling over backwards in a somehow still-graceful move.

"No, that doesn't ruin a thing for me," she said before she looked him up and down again. "Did you know that they trained me to look for hidden items?"

"No, but I figure a smart girl like you probably already knew that stuff," he said with an easy smile.

She leaned in to give him a quick kiss, and as she did, she slipped her hand into his hoodie pocket, though what she felt there had her stop in her tracks. "Where … what did you do?"

"I'm a thief, I told you," he said, though he looked a little more serious. "Things went south at one of the places I was supposed to bug, so we made it look like a break-in."

She pulled her hand out of his hoodie and just … _stared_ for a moment at the cut gems there. "Okay, so it's just a treasure hunt then?" she asked with wide eyes.

"Pretty much," he agreed, smirking. "And if you think it was easy to get those out of the weird setting they were in, you haven't seen Norman Osborn's pumpkin obsession."

"Ugh," she said, making a face at the mere thought of her obnoxious fellow victor. "Yes, I kind of have." She stood up and pulled him to his feet to properly frisk him, though she stopped short of the _full_ effect when she'd emptied out his pockets. "Back pockets were my favorite," she informed him when she was through and they were both grinning.

"Wasn't sure about 'em, but you were in a good mood," he said with a crooked grin.

"Well … the front pockets were fun too, but that could have gone an entirely different way."

"You're an efficient frisker, Miss Morse," he said, still with that same grin. "And now you've got some pretty rocks to wear around your neck next time you have to deal with people — and you can know it's Norm's."

"Oh, I'm not wearing anything like this around them," she said with a grin.

"Really? For me, that'd be half the fun. Knowing Osborn's missing things and has no clue they're under his nose," Clint said.

"Well, I'll have time to think about it," she said. "No scheduled trips back for a while." She couldn't help but just grin wider at the thought.

"Hey, I like news like that," he said as he dropped into the couch again and pulled on her arm. She snuggled into his side and rested her head on his shoulder. "I missed you while you were gone, and I didn't get the chance to thank you for the Christmas presents til, well, just now."

"You liked that, then? Please tell me that wasn't the reason you ended up in medical."

"It wasn't," he promised, grinning down at her. "Actually, ol' Pale Vampire Doc Man has been pretty…" He paused. "What is the word for friendly when you're not a friendly person?"

"Fake."

"Yes, that. Didn't even bat an eye when he walked in on the kids holding hands and sweet talking each other. Just did the doctor thing and told Katie to check on her friends too."

"Well, he does tend to put the medical issues first and then worry about behavioral issues. That's kind of why Charles is even here. After the breakdown last year with … one of the Tahiti people."

"I didn't know that," Clint said, sitting up a bit so he could look at her better. "You mean like Bruce and his temper, or... ?"

"No," she said, shaking her head lightly. "We're not entirely sure what went wrong with her. Hank blames Essex, Essex blames Hank — I don't think either of them is really to blame though. All things considered. The process worked perfectly, and Essex's work was flawless."

"So you think it was a problem with the kid herself," Clint surmised.

"Yeah, I do," she said. "There were factors that no one knew about until afterward and … she really needed a shrink."

"Sounds like that's kind of on par with most of us, though," Clint pointed out. "Not like me or Nat was in that good of shape to begin with, and Pepper just about went nuts beforehand…"

"She wasn't a Career, so you can't even blame the training angle," Bobbi said. "And her injuries were nowhere near as … extensive as Pepper or Peter. Or you."

Clint just shook his head. "People like that've got no reason being in the Games in the first place."

"She went AWOL after she was here for a few months," Bobbi continued, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Coulson is still mad about that."

"I bet," Clint said with a bit of a smirk. "How much money you think he dumped into each of us? SHIELD's gotta be in the red for a loss like that."

"No idea, but she didn't get any training to speak of afterward either because of the psychological concerns," Bobbi said. "Not as much as the kids they have now."

"Why not train her?" Clint asked with a frown. "Or is she more like Cassie and Pep — just… seeing if it works?"

"No, she was a fighter in the Games," Bobbi said. "But ... she was broken."

Clint frowned as he thought it over. "Games do that to kids," he said quietly.

"She was broken going _in,_ Clint," Bobbi said seriously. "She was an abuse victim. The Games just made it worse."

"Yeah, well, Charlie would say the Games make anything that you bring in worse. But I've sat in on a _lot_ of his sessions, so maybe that's just me," Clint said, waving his hand.

"No, he's right," Bobbi said. "Though I should probably stop in for tea one day soon. I very nearly did something stupid — it was a rookie mistake too."

"Didn't think you made rookie mistakes," he said as he settled into a tighter snuggle with her, his nose in her hair.

"I got ... desperate," she said honestly. "I wanted to see this woman get her due, and ... I took Viper's advice."

Clint pulled away from her for a moment so he could look her in the face. "What _for_?" he asked, clearly taken aback.

She let out a long breath and sat upright as she pulled her feet up off the floor and halfway under herself. "There was this … _woman_ that made it her business to make sure the victors were all extra miserable and I just ... _had it_ with her. So. I thought I'd try out one of Viper's concoctions."

Clint watched her with still-wide eyes as she told him the story. "And…" he prompted quietly.

"And our newest victor stopped me from doing something that would have blown up in my face."

"Huh." Clint watched her still for another long moment before he finally let out a sigh. "Remind me to thank him next time I see him, then. I prefer you _not_ exploded," he teased lightly.

"I didn't know he had her set up for a fall already," she explained. "By the way, she's dead now."

"Well, that was a rollercoaster of a back-and-forth," Clint said, shaking his head, but his gaze was still on her expression.

"And that was just one day," she said. "It was like that. The whole. Tour."

He smiled a bit at that and leaned into her for a kiss. "Glad he stopped you. Doing stupid things is my job."

"Clearly. That's why you ended up in medical," she pointed out.

"True story," he agreed before he kissed her again, being very gentle about the whole thing as he very carefully pulled her close. "So you gonna be okay, or do we need to tell Charlie you're listening to Viper?"

"I think he already knows I had a lapse in judgement," she admitted. "It spread like wildfire with the victors once Peter Quill broke loose from Gamora."

"That sounds like way too much politicking for my tastes," he said, making a bit of a face. "Rumors and all that crap. Easier on this side — just point me at someone and shoot 'em. I don't know how you do both sides of this."

"This is my vacation time," she admitted. "Honestly, I don't know how the other victors _don't_ do this when they're not expected to smile at those people. Though, smiling apparently isn't mandatory anymore either."

"So… I'm a vacation benefit?" he asked with a troublemaking smile, clearly trying to get a grin out of her.

"Yes. Yes you are," she agreed before she slipped closer and kissed him a lot better than she had before. "But I might need to frisk you again to be sure you're not hiding anything else."

He grinned at her and shrugged his shoulders, bumping hers as he did so. "Got nothing to hide, but you're welcome to search," he teased.


	37. Capitol Girls

**Notes: Well, now that the tour is over, it's time to get moving forward on some other projects and plans that SHIELD has in store. And it's also time to mess with Skye because, come on. That's just fun.**

* * *

 **Chapter 37: "Capitol Girls"**

* * *

 _January 17_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Kurt and Peter were the only ones left in the medical wing, as everyone who wasn't injured was training — and Clint had gone off with Bobbi — so they were just chatting easily, Kurt retelling the story of how he ended up there in the first place, with more embellishments with each new retelling, when Sin arrived with an arm crooked full of newspapers.

"So," she said with her chin tipped up so she could look down her nose at them both a bit. "I brought you some reading material. Your story is getting more and more worn out every time you tell it."

"It's a good story," Kurt defended with a small smirk.

"Yeah, it's easy for him to make stuff up since he was unconscious for, like, ninety-percent of it," Peter joked.

"Right, well... I thought since no one has given you anything new, you might want to read up on your friend." She dropped the stack of papers in his lap. "It looks like they're having a ball making up stories of their own."

Kurt glanced down at the picture on the story she'd earmarked for him — of Logan and a very pretty blonde woman — and started to frown as he read on about his friend's supposed torrid affairs and decadent, cheating lifestyle. "This... " He shook his head and looked up at Sin. "Thank you for bringing this to me."

"Thanks for not letting me get caught," she replied. "I don't think I could stand having to be stuck in here with you two longer than I already was."

Kurt nodded her way. "Next time I'll try to give you a little better warning — and not get caught myself, _ja_?"

"Please," she agreed before she simply left the two boys alone again.

"I wanna see," Peter said, reaching out with his hands and making grabby motions until Kurt tossed him one of the newspapers, and he let out a low whistle. "That… that is very, very wrong. Where _are_ they getting their journalistic degrees?" He was clearly trying to cheer Kurt up as he said, "And they spelled his last name wrong. Clearly, they are hacks."

"I just don't understand it," Kurt said at last, shaking his head. "Where are they getting these pictures from in the first place?"

"Not like we don't know he's Mr. Snuggles," Peter said, still trying to keep the mood light. "He's just… making friends. And they're running the wrong way with it. Clearly."

Kurt smirked over at Peter and just had to shake his head for a moment before he looked back down at the article. "They're trying to play to the same story they told in our Games," he said quietly.

"Yeah… you told me about that," Peter said before he made a _pfft_ noise, blowing air through his lips. "I'm telling you, Kurt, they're hacks. _Anybody_ with _eyes_ could see Kate was giving you heart eyes — I mean. I mean, _really heart eyes._ Her pupils turned into hearts, Kurt. _Actual hearts_."

Kurt chuckled at that and tossed Peter the paper when he was finished reading through it, looking through a few more headlines and pictures. "He looks miserable," Kurt said with a frown. "If he was making friends, he would be smiling."

"So, ask Bobbi what happened for real," Peter said with a shrug. "I mean, we have an eyewitness ready-made, right? Or… do you not want to get between the guy-Hawk and his bird-girl? Which, by the way, I didn't know was a thing?"

"We can just ... catch her at mealtime, I think," Kurt said. "I'm sure she'll tell us if we ask."

"That's if our resident den mother and secret vampire lets us have co-ed mealtimes," Peter pointed out, a little put-out when he thought about it before he brightened. "Think Charles would know?"

Claire, of course, was watching out of the corner of her eye as Peter got more vocal about his theories on what they could do and who they needed to go through to do it. " _Go_ ," she said to Peter. "Nothing is keeping you here anymore. All your bloodwork is clean. But your friend has to stay a few more days."

"Freedom!" Peter declared with a grin, and a fist pump to match, as he stood up on the bed. "Don't you worry, Kurt — I'll go investigate. You just stay right here and wait for your princess to come visit you, and I'll handle the case of ol' Logan the Sourpuss."

As Peter skipped out of the medical bay, Claire made her way over to Kurt and picked up one of the papers, shaking her head. "These people ... they pick out the story they want and make everything else wrap around that. Don't let it get to you."

"I'm more concerned that it'll get to him," he said honestly.

"What do you think he can do about it?" Claire asked, crossing her arms and moving the papers so she could sit down on his bed to chat with him. "He's being watched. All the time."

"He's never liked attention," Kurt said with a sigh. "Watching him all the time isn't going to help that."

"Then, maybe you can hope that one of his new _friends_ is good company," she said with a little smirk.

"That's what I'd like to ask Bobbi," Kurt admitted. "I just want to know that he has _someone_ while we're… stuck here." He gave Claire a tight smile. "It's hard to know we can't do anything to help — or that we're not _allowed_ when we could."

She gave him a sad sort of smile and leaned in a bit. "Give it time," she said. "I'll bet you might be surprised what you can do once they trust you three a little bit more."

"Trust is a two-way street, Claire," he pointed out.

"Hey," she said, raising both hands in defense. "Don't gotta tell me. I'm on your side, kiddo."

Kurt let out a sigh and gave her a tired sort of smile. "I know, I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mean to take it out on you, or Matt, or Charles — or anyone else."

"It's fine; we know you're all tired of being cooped up most of the time. It's not fair what you're putting up with. But it will get better." She looked toward Essex's door for a moment. "And honestly, you weren't drugged. As far as I'm concerned, I'm going to cut you loose tomorrow if you can pass all your tests."

"That would be lovely," Kurt said with a smile. "I'm getting tired of being poked and prodded, to be honest."

She patted his knee and got up to leave him to rest again, even if he didn't think he needed it.

* * *

 _Charles Xavier's Tahiti Office_

* * *

Charles was just putting a few new books on the shelf in his office that Moira had given him for Christmas that he was sure that Kurt would enjoy reading, unpacking and settling back into the Tahiti Wing after a longer victory tour than he had expected. He looked at the last one he'd placed on the shelf and decided that he could wait to read it — and picked it up to take down to Kurt, knowing that the boy was in the medical bay and likely in need of something to do.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard a little giggle from the rec room nearest the training center and had to stop, backtrack, and see who was going to be screeched at by Essex next.

"Miss Morse," Charles said, not bothering to hide the shock in his tone when he saw the two blondes tangled in each other and the couch cushions. "I didn't think you'd be participating in … well... nothing like this."

Both Bobbi and Clint had scrambled apart from each other on hearing him enter, and Bobbi was trying to flatten her hair and pull down her shirt to a proper length as Clint just looked very, very red. "Oh, it's you, Charles," Bobbi said, sounding relieved and slightly breathless. "Welcome back."

He smiled her way and with a nod wished them both a good evening as he went back to find Kurt. He wouldn't say anything, and Bobbi was old enough to make her own decisions. He was simply… surprised not only that she was pursuing a romance considering the state of things but also that it was with Clint, who he had thought was still under the spell of the frustratingly stubborn Miss Romanoff.

He thought about this newest development all the way down to the medical bay, and no one stopped him on his trek there. When he arrived, though, it was almost like Kurt was waiting for him — he couldn't have known that Kurt had expected Peter to bring Charles there.

"How is Logan?" Kurt asked before Charles had even come to a stop beside him.

Charles let out a breath and let his shoulders slump. That was not exactly the conversation he had intended to start up. "He's had a hard couple of weeks, to be honest," Charles admitted.

"Tony recorded the broadcasts," Kurt told him frankly. "We've all seen… well. What the Capitol showed, at any rate."

"They didn't show much," Charles said.

"That doesn't exactly surprise me, or make this any better," Kurt said. "Considering their track record with him." He paused and then reached over to the table beside his bed. "Sin brought some newspapers for me to read," he said as he turned the paper over in his hand to show Charles the headlines. "This is not like him. What's really going on out there, Charles?"

He took a glance at the papers in question and tried to very carefully phrase his next words. "I'm assuming that every paper shows a different woman," Charles said. "Most of those are entirely out of context, I assure you."

"I assumed as much for myself," Kurt said. "This isn't him."

"And as usual, they missed the real story entirely," Charles promised, shaking his head slowly. "Logan ... doesn't react like most people to stress."

"So what was the real story?" Kurt asked.

"The real story was one of decades of victimization that your friend put a temporary end to on his third day there," Charles said with a little smile that only lasted until his next thought. "Of course — it will be back to business as usual before long, but for now, he's saved all of the victors a massive amount of headaches."

At that, Kurt couldn't help but smile. "Now, _that_ sounds more like the Logan I know," he said, tossing aside the newspapers. "Is that why Bobbi came back in such a good mood?"

"It is," he said with a nod. "The younger victors celebrated harder the last night than I've ever seen them do in the past."

"I guess I just don't understand why the Capitol is still trying to break the victors they have," Kurt said with a bit of a frown. "If that's true, and they've been victimized for so long… why?"

"The unintended consequence of the Games system they have in place is quite simply that the victors — particularly the more recent ones — have the public's full backing. There's power in that. Power that the Capitol can't really afford to simply hand over. So they find ways to control the victors." He leaned in closer to Kurt still. "No one — _no one_ expected him to do what he did."

"Is he alright?" Kurt asked. "If he's upset the balance of power over there…"

"Your friend walks a fine line," Charles said. "He's back in Seven now. But he seemed relieved once that particular drama was handed to the royals."

Kurt just shook his head for a moment and let out a breath of a laugh. "Logan… _what_ are you getting yourself into?" he muttered, half to himself.

"None of us — or them — really knows," Charles admitted.

"I wish I could be there to help him," Kurt told him honestly.

"I have the distinct feeling that if you were, he wouldn't tell you what he was up to," Charles said. "He didn't tell a soul until we'd all figured out what he'd done after the fact."

Kurt thought about it for a moment, and he just had to shake his head. "Well, I'll just be glad when we get the ball rolling."

"It may be sooner than you think," Charles said. "An unintended shockwave of Logan's little stunt is that the entire Royal family seems to be a bit more distracted than usual."

"Great," Kurt said, leaning forward with his hands clasped together in front of him. "Let's move, then. The sooner the better. I don't like all these secrets, especially when Logan is out there putting himself in danger and we're hidden here fighting curfew rules. It seems rather lopsided, don't you think?"

"Believe it or not, he was fighting a curfew rule of his own," Charles laughed. "In a manner of speaking."

"That's one strict curfew if the royals are involved."

"You have no idea," Charles replied. He cleared his throat as he straightened up "Now, I've brought you something to pass the time that's less inflammatory than the news." He very gently pushed a copy of _Tom Sawyer_ Kurt's way.

Kurt brightened up a bit at that. " _Danke_ ," he said with a widening smile as he took the book in his hands. "With everyone in training, it gets a bit dull here, especially now that Peter's been released — and Clint isn't here anymore either, even if he hasn't been released officially," he added with a bit of laughter in his eyes.

"You are welcome to whatever I have on my shelf," Charles said with a kind smile.

"Thank you — really," Kurt said. "And… it's good to have you back. You've been sorely missed. And it's nice to hear what's going on outside of these walls"

"This entire tour was incredibly long," Charles said. "But the long and short of it is that I believe your friend has every intention to do right."

"I could have told you that in the first place," Kurt replied.

"Yes, but all that time alone in Seven wasn't good for him," Charles said.

"Another reason to hurry the revolution along," Kurt said. "And get his friends back to him." He let out a weary sigh, tapping the book against his knee. "I don't know what you've heard about the missions that we ran, but not all of them were very successful, so it's good to know at least with Logan there was some forward motion."

"Director Fury is taking a personal interest at this point," Charles told him. "So perhaps, if all goes well, we can see a quicker pace."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" Kurt asked openly. "I'm not entirely sure."

"Probably a bit of both," Charles admitted.

Kurt nodded thoughtfully and then set the book on his table. "It really is good to have you back," he said warmly. "And thank you for the book — I'll return it as soon as I'm done."

"Take your time."

* * *

 _January 18_

 _District Seven_

* * *

Skye awoke with a start when there was, very suddenly, a very small face inches from hers, almost nose-to-nose as a tiny blonde girl half shouted, "What are _you_ doing here?"

It was such a shock that for a second, Skye just blinked at her, completely taken off her guard, before she tried to shift out from underneath her almost unblinking gaze. "I'm staying here for a little while.""

"For how long?"

"A couple weeks," Skye replied, still trying to get out from under the little girl.

"Whyyyy are you here?"

"I'm teaching Logan about…. Um. Numbers and computers and stuff," she said, wondering just how much she was supposed to tell little kids who stuck their nose into things like this.

The girl wrinkled up her nose and gave Skye a witheringly dirty look. "You don't look like a teacher."

"I'm not usually," Skye agreed. "But Logan's pretty special, so he gets special teachers."

"Is that how you say 'stupid' nicer?" The little blonde looked totally suspicious of Skye, clearly eyeing her up and down.

"No," Skye said quickly. "Actually, Logan's really smart. He totally gets it when I show him stuff."

The girl narrowed her eyes further. "I think you _like_ him."

"What?" Skye tried to arrange her face in what she assumed would be the most shocked by this accusation. "Why? What… what makes you say something like that?"

"Your face turned red," she said before she finally started to laugh a little bit. "What's your name little Miss fake-teacher?"

"My name's Skye," she said as she got out from under the covers and tried to find something decent to wear. "What's your name? And how'd you get in here anyway?"

"I'm Elsie," she said with a giggle before she just turned tail and rushed out of the room rather than answer anymore questions. A few moments later, Skye could hear Logan asking almost exactly the same question and being answered with peals of laughter from clearly more than just Elsie.

"What the heck is even going on here?" Skye muttered to herself as she quickly got dressed and headed out to go see the show.

When she stepped out of the room, she saw that Logan hadn't quite gotten his flannel on while three little kids pulled at his limbs for him to join them downstairs. He quickly gave up the idea of getting dressed first before he picked up one that had hugged him around the knees and just started to walk, dragging the other two behind him. "How did you get in here?" he asked. "I thought you little punks weren't hiding here while I'm in town."

"We wanted to say 'hi'," one of the smaller ones said, giggling upside down over his shoulder as he tickled her.

"So…. how do you guys know Logan?" Skye couldn't help asking, trying to wrap her brain around what the heck she was even seeing. He glanced her way then quickly shook his head trying to find the right way to explain it, but one of the girls got there first.

"He lets us hide here when he's gone," the upside down girl said, grinning widely.

"And he's nice." Elsie said. "He helps us out. _A lot._ "

"They're delusional," Logan replied, half glancing toward Skye again and trying not to show how irritated he was with the entire set up at that second as he dealt with the mini mob.

"They're adorable," Skye countered, grinning as she watched the kids dragging Logan down — or trying to, anyway. "Where did you _find_ them?"

" _No!_ We found him!" Elsie argued. "Kinda."

"They're from the orphanage," Logan told her, finally trying to take control of the direction of things since the girls were not helping … at all. "They're the perfect example on why not to feed strays." At that, he started to tickle the upside down kid until she was squealing and breathless — and perfectly safe to drop onto the couch downstairs.

Skye watched the whole thing in something like disbelief — and pure amusement. "I feel like this explains so much. And leaves me with so many more questions," she muttered.

"Doesn't it though?" he agreed through his teeth, tickling the other two with a fake growl until they too, were breathless and grinning on the couch with Logan after he'd let them pull him down to sit with them. "Give me ten minutes, and I'll have coffee."

"I can do it," she offered. "You're _clearly_ busy."

"They just stopped in to warm up and say hello," Logan said as Elsie nodded alongside him as he finally got around to buttoning up his shirt.

Elsie waved at her for her to come over too. "Are you ticklish too?"

"Ummm." Skye just turned very, very red, completely unsure what to do with that question.

"Don't answer that," Logan said with a little smile as he pulled Elsie closer to work her over again. "She's just tryin' to stir up trouble."

"That also explains why she likes it here," Skye joked lightly as she headed for the kitchen to get the coffee started, deciding that was safer than whatever the heck was going on with the newest victor and the small swarm of tiny girls.

It wasn't too long though before Elsie and the other little girls came barreling into the kitchen to attack Skye with a hug and then turn right around and run back out — the back door slamming behind them on their way.

"Don't worry," Logan called out as he hit the kitchen in their wake, going to one of the cabinets for a pair of mugs for the coffee. "They'll tell the others not to drop in. We don't need them spreading around your numbers story any further than Heather."

"Yeah, that… that was the best I could come up with to a six-year-old interrogator while I was still waking up. Sorry," she said, a little embarrassed now.

"It's fine," he told her. "Elsie Dee is a master manipulator. Surprised Fury hasn't scooped her up for an agent."

"Not old enough yet," Skye said, though she lost a bit of her smile and cleared her throat as she thought of Fury's list of children he wanted tortured and killed in the Games just so he could _use_ them. She cleared her throat and quickly decided to put that out of her mind. Far, far out of her mind. " _Any_ way… I made coffee."

"Perfect," he replied as he headed toward her with the mugs. "So what's the big plan today? I'm still a little foggy on what the hell you're doing for him or what the hell I'm supposed to be doing."

"Well, you're doing great on picking up the basics? So I've got a program that simulates some more complicated security stuff. We'll work up to the palatial stuff," she said with a shrug as she poured out the coffee for both of them. "By the end of two weeks, you'll be able to hack the royals. Well — enough to get by, anyway."

"Yeah, that sounds like _fun_ ," he said dryly, staring into his cup for a while before he glanced up at her without moving his head. "And you're sure he's not crazier than Thanos?"

"Jury's still out. This is the guy whose head agent decided to hire me instead of executing me, so…" She took a long sip of coffee and tried not to look his way while he was watching her.

"So I'm in good company then."

She hid her expression in her mug for a moment. "Uh, yeah, I guess. If you can call ex-terrorists good company? At least, that's what my file says."

"Considering who you were terrorizing? Yeah." He had to smirk to himself as he thought of it. "Scary little thing, are ya?"

"I don't look it, but yeah, actually," she said with a little grin. "I could totally bankrupt you and post every secret you ever had to the whole world in about, oh, ten minutes."

"Yeah? Got anything good?" he asked.

"On you?" She shrugged. "Mostly that you're not as evil as the coverage says. And that you apparently attract small children. For some reason."

"I told you — feeding strays," he replied with a little laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard that part," she said, waving her hand before she leaned in, her eyes sparkling. "But I've got some good ones on SHIELD. Which I cannot tell you now that I've been hired, but man oh man, we could start with Coulson and his red car named _Lola_ and go through the list."

"Another time then," he said easily.

"Hey, if you keep up the way you're going, you could find out half the secrets yourself. You're good at this ... you know… for someone who's lived in the districts his whole life. No offense, you just… haven't had access to this stuff."

"Fluke thing," he said with a shrug. "Just beginner's luck."

"Nah, you're just a fast learner. That's how I was — taught myself coding and went from there, so I recognize it." She grinned at him and refilled her coffee. "Which, I'm going to be honest, is a relief, because I was really worried that Fury was going to come back in two weeks and I'd be still trying to teach you the basics, and then I might actually get executed? Who knows!" She threw up one hand for show.

"I wouldn't let him pull that," he said with a nod.

"That… is actually, _legitimately_ a relief, I'm not gonna lie," Skye said as she got up to find something a little more substantial than coffee for breakfast. "Coulson keeps pointing out that I could always just — you know — _die_ and stop doing the SHIELD-agent-in-danger thing. I know he's pulling my leg, but it's just not funny."

"Gets more funny when you're not worried about dying," he said before he finished off his mug and headed back to refill.

"Oh, I always worry about that. Always. I have teammates who could kill me in five seconds flat. Well… okay, I have _one_ teammate now who could kill me that fast, but maybe Simmons could if she came up with something nasty…." She looked over at him from behind the fridge door. "Oh great, now I'm thinking about _that_."

"You need some self-defense lessons," he said, shaking his head at her.

"I _was_ taking some, but they sorta got… derailed."

"From the one that was bragging on how fast he could kill you?" he asked. "It's always that guy."

"Yeah… that one," Skye said with a frown, pulling on her hair the slightest bit without realizing it. "He turned out to be a total jerk. I mean, more than just the usual kind of jerk. Just… ugh." She waved a hand at him before she reemerged from the fridge with some eggs and a carton of milk.

"I can't show you anything on SHIELD's 'official' book, but if you want a few nasty quick tricks, I'll bet you could take that guy out anyhow."

She beamed at him. "Hey, I like it! You show me some dirty fighting, and I'll show you how to screw with people's systems, and — yes. This," she gestured between them, "will be _great_."

"When I need a break from your systems, I'll show you a few tricks then," he said with a crooked little smirk before he poured more coffee out for both of them. "And I'll do the cooking. You're supposed to be a _guest_ so, you know. You should _relax_ where you can. I doubt you've been this far from SHIELD since you started."

"Well, I did go on the tour, but nope, never been out on my own. Not really," she admitted, pulling on her hair again after she set down the eggs. "I'm… fairly green. Is it that obvious?"

"You're nervous," he said, pointing her way. "You're covering _okay_ , but it's still easy to spot. Maybe I can help you work on that too. You'd be a lousy poker player."

She flushed a bit. "I don't know… how much you can help with … I mean. The biggest name I've ever been around was, like, well. Director Fury a few days ago."

"You're not counting _me_ as a 'big' name I hope. Cause I'm nothing special — or haven't you figured that out yet?" he asked with a little scoff. "Just a bunch of BS from the Capitol."

"Actually, that's not true. But not for the reasons the Capitol says. Kinda the opposite, actually." She looked around the little house before she leaned in a bit. "I don't know a soul back where I come from that just… lets little kids stroll into their house like that. Or offers to teach people from _SHIELD_ , especially when I know you don't really trust SHIELD. That's kind of _obvious_."

"You don't act like SHIELD," he defended as he worked on his coffee.

She pointed at her face. "Green agent. Former terrorist. And getting really lousy training from a guy who screwed my whole team, so… yeah. Not a real great start to SHIELD."

"So how hard did you fall for this creep then?" he asked evenly. "And how bad do you want to take him down?"

She flushed a little pink. "Oh, yeah. I'm really gonna have to work on my poker face."

He was just nodding with a crooked smirk.

"Well, _I_ wasn't the one he, you know, more than metaphorically screwed? She's definitely taking it out on him, though," she admitted, quickly moving to pull out a few more things from the cabinets, mostly so she wouldn't have to face him for a moment or two.

"You know, I kinda got a thing for screwin' over people like that."

"Well that's great, because this guy…" She paused and bit her lip. "I really can't tell you what he did, but it was bad."

"You don't have to. I won't ask what he did." He had his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he watched her from the table.

"He did kiss me though," Skye admitted, flushing a little more before she picked up her coffee and took a seat across from him. "And I totally thought, you know, maybe… but I have really, really bad taste, apparently."

He just nodded in agreement. "Apparently. I'm guessing this falls into the 'kick 'em in the groin' kind of reaction— but … don't do that. He'll be expecting it. Act like you're gonna do that, then punch him in the throat. He'll drop his hands to protect himself, and then he'll be wide open."

"I'll do that next time I see him," she promised with a growing smile. "You know, if his pissed off ex-girlfriend hasn't finished him."

He pulled a face at that and shook his head slowly as he sat back. "Same team?"

"Yeah." She rubbed a hand over her face. "It's been a really, really weird few months."

"No shit," he said quietly, his face tipped downward as he stared at his coffee, his smile long gone.

She glanced up at him for a second and then shrugged up both shoulders. "Yeah."

"I should warn you," Logan said as he got up to start cooking for the two of them. "Tomorrow is Friday. A friend of mine is going to come over and turn this place into a zoo. If you don't want to witness it — just lock your door."

"I kinda want to see it now," she said with a little smirk, turning to watch him.

He busied himself with his back turned to her. "It's a deal I made a while back when I was being a little more stupid than I have been lately — shocker. I'm sure." He peeked up at her over his shoulder for only a second before he straightened up. "She and her husband come over to do dinner with a whole flock of kids. It's loud. Very, _very_ loud."

"I'll hide in my room if it bothers me, but it almost sounds like fun," Skye said.

"Just warning you, since those little troublemakers that were here this morning _will_ come looking for you."

"Then I'll just have to tickle them," she said. "It worked for you, right?"

"I think it's about the only thing that stops them," he agreed.

"See? I'm already learning self-defense. Throat punch for jerks, and tickling for little girls."

"Self def-," Logan chuckled under his breath and shook his head as she came over to hop up on the counter and watch him work. "Against the army of little girls … that's not self-defense. That's _self-preservation_."

She just laughed. "If you say so."


	38. Trouble with Redheads

**Notes: We… might be having way too much fun with the kids in District Seven. We're slightly biased, though. ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 38: "Trouble with Redheads"**

* * *

 _January 19_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Technically, Clint was supposed to be back in medical, but he was definitely not doing that. He was done getting poked and prodded and all that stuff, and besides, clearly, he was in perfect shape.

But he also wasn't cleared for training yet, since technically, he _did_ get shot, which meant he was just tooling around for the first little while as everyone else had their assignments, settling deep in the couch in the rec room and grinning a bit to himself. Tony had been good enough to clear out the rec room for him and Bobbi last night and screw with Essex' feed a bit, and all it cost Clint was one of those gems he'd swiped from Osborn so Tony could make a necklace for Pepper. Clint didn't have any use for them anyway, so he figured why not — and it was so, so very worth it.

He was just checking through the movie library to find another movie — not that they'd really actually paid any attention to the first one, if he was being honest — when he heard voices down the hall.

"I don't buy the whole 'super good doctor' act," Kurt was saying. "I know he's up to something. I just have no idea what."

"As painful as it is to hear, and for me to say, he _is_ an amazingly good doctor," Charles replied. "Though he is a piss poor therapist." There was a bit of venom to Charles' voice that clearly neither boy had heard, because Clint heard the footsteps grind to a halt as Kurt stopped almost dead in his tracks at Charles' assessment. "It's going to take me months to unravel the mess he's made while I've been gone … doing nothing of any use in the Capitol. Natasha won't even _speak_ while I'm in the room unless Essex is there to direct her."

Clint frowned on hearing that and wasted no time getting to the door. He poked his head out of the rec room and flagged their attention. "So… I was eavesdropping," he started out — no sense lying. "And _what the heck_?"

"Well I wasn't being entirely quiet about it either," Charles admitted, perfectly calmly and without the slightest hint of remorse. "So I'm sure you heard me correctly."

"Yeah, but Nat…" Clint stopped short. He wasn't sure where to even _start_ , after everything that had happened while Charles was gone. He took a deep breath and tried again. "You know, I've been meaning to talk to you about her, actually. I thought I saw her in One, but …."

"Come to my office, please, Mr. Barton," Charles said suddenly, and when Clint's head came up at the abrupt interruption, he saw that Charles didn't look severe or anything, but he did look… something. There was some kind of fire right there in his expression, though Clint wasn't sure it was directed his way at all. "So we may discuss this more privately."

"Yeah, that's probably smart," Clint agreed, his thumbs in his pockets as he glanced at Kurt. "You mind sharing the prof, Kurt?"

"Be my guest," Kurt said, gesturing with both hands. "I was really just complaining with nothing useful to add. These rules are horrible."

"Yeah, they're real mood-killers," Clint agreed with a bit of a smirk. "And a pain to get around," he added in a lower tone, the smirk widening.

"For some worse than others," Kurt agreed with a little smile to match.

Clint grinned outright at that before he clapped a hand on Kurt's shoulder on his way to Charles' office, though at the prospect of having to talk about the disaster that had been his mission in One, he started to lose a bit of his earlier good mood. Every time he brought it up, Essex had insisted he had to have hallucinated it since, well, Natasha was locked up. He'd seen it himself.

But he was _so sure_...

He waited until he'd closed Charles' office door before he let the easy grin drop entirely. "So ... do you — did you get any of the reports about what went down in One?" he asked, wondering just how much Charles already knew, and how much of the 'hallucination' story he'd have to fight.

"I read through the report, but I have to admit I found it to be lacking any useful details," Charles said with his hands folded patiently in front of him. "How is it that you have come to enlighten me, but not Agent Coulson?"

"I guess I should try and talk to Coulson too, but Bobbi pointed out to me yesterday that really it sounds more like your department, since, well, Essex says my report is questionable at best considering the poisoning," Clint admitted.

Charles looked thoughtful for a long moment. "We could find out what order it all happened — exactly," he said at lost before he met Clint's gaze. "But it would require a large amount of trust on your part."

Clint looked a little wary at that. "Trust who, exactly?"

"Well, me," Charles said, and Clint's shoulders relaxed substantially. Charles was one of the few people in this place he _could_ do that for. "I could hypnotize you and discover the order of events even through the hallucinations if you like. The process is perfectly safe, and you won't do anything that you wouldn't do in a fully awakened state. It's not like the magic shows and horror movies at all."

Clint considered the offer for a good, long time, clearly a little wary of the idea — not of Charles, just … the idea of having to get to that point... "And if I wasn't hallucinating at all? 'Cause I didn't think I was. Just hurting."

"Then we'd know that too," Charles replied. "I find it a bit suspicious that the blood samples they retrieved from you went mysteriously missing."

"They what?" Clint looked taken aback, and more than a little upset, as he did a full double-take.

"The blood they drew to analyze what poisons were in your system never made it to the proper equipment."

"You're kidding me." Clint stared at Charles open-mouthed. "Do you know … do you _know_ how much getting pricked for that crap _hurt_? I thought I was getting stabbed, Charles. It was like getting Nat's knife in me all over again! And they _didn't even analyze it_?"

"Well, if they did — it wasn't on the equipment in the main labs," Charles said with a significant look.

"What about Pete? And Kurt? And Sin?" Clint asked, still openly staring.

"All of that seems to be in place," Charles said.

Clint stared at Charles for a while longer, clearly just _ticked_ at this point the more he thought about it. "It was Nat. She shot me. I'm sure it was," he said finally, through his teeth.

"Can you tell me your story?" Charles asked, pushing the files away from himself. "If you say you weren't hallucinating, I'm more inclined to believe you than to assume it was poison. Particularly since no one else who has been poisoned lately has hallucinated at all."

"Yeah, I can… do you need a watch or something?" Clint asked after a moment. "I mean, to prove I'm not lying, with the hypnotism or whatever?"

"I'm afraid that even with the hypnosis, the only one that will believe you is me anyhow — and no, I don't need a watch," Charles said, unable to help a little smile at the thought.

Clint let out a breath and leaned forward, scrubbing both hands over his face. "I just… he keeps saying I was out of it, and I know I was far gone. Couldn't talk or move or anything, because it _hurt_ , but I _know_ what I saw. But it's only me that knows that. Outside, it looked like I was just… not with it at all."

Charles simply nodded and sat back as he invited Clint to tell his story to him. He didn't interrupt and nodded politely at each pointed, but he frowned as the story went on — the detail on Natasha was not something that sounded made up, especially when he knew how close the two of them had been.

When Clint finished his story, Charles took a few extra moments to get Clint into the right meditative state that was generally considered hypnosis to re-tell it.

To Charles' great relief and irritation, the details matched up perfectly, as did the order of events.

When they were through, and Clint was fully awakened again, Charles had a tight smile, while his eyes flashed with anger. "I believe every word you have told me so far," Charles informed him in a nearly dangerous whisper. "And I don't think for one moment that you hallucinated what you saw."

Clint let out an obvious breath of relief. "Oh good. I was starting to think I was going crazy," he muttered, his shoulders slumped with the weight of it gone.

"I will _find_ proof," Charles promised. "And frankly, I think it's time that I found a way to get unlimited access to Miss Romanoff. Perhaps a bit of hypnotism would help her case as well — and this could be what I need to get that access."

"Didn't you say you have to trust the person hypnotising you, though?"

"Ideally. It is much easier that way," Charles admitted. "It can be done otherwise, but it takes time. I prefer not to take that route if I can help it."

"And it's kinda creepy," Clint said, before quickly adding, "No offense."

"It really is," Charles said, smiling at that.

"But you think you can un-brainwash her that way?" Clint asked carefully.

"It's part of the more intensive process, but yes," Charles said. "It would help to discover what the triggers are that set her off — the names of the people involved — the most ingrained beliefs and standards of behavior — nothing that would cause her harm in any way."

"She shot me, prof. If you can undo that, you're a miracle worker." He paused and seemed to think something over. "Hey… don't tell her about me and Bob, okay? I think she was trying to use the crush I had on her and maybe … maybe I can help if she still thinks she can."

"I won't say anything about anyone else to her. If she's working for someone else — I can't afford to give her anything on anyone."

"Yeah, good point," Clint agreed. "Especially since she's so tight with Doctor Kill Joy."

"Indeed," Charles said. He paused, and the slightest twinkle lit up his expression. "By the way, I've already started the necessary channels to shift back to a more reasonable schedule for everyone. Keep it to yourself until it's official."

Clint broke into a wide smile at that. "Not a peep from me, I promise. But you're about to make a whole lotta kids happy."

* * *

 _January 20_

 _District Seven_

* * *

Skye was a little curious to see who, exactly, would be stopping by for the Friday night dinner, so she was more than just a little surprised when it was a _Sentinel_ and his wife who came to the door, along with an army of kids ranging from three to about fifteen, all of whom had brought something to help bring the dinner inside.

The woman looked just as surprised to see Skye as she was to see a Sentinel and his wife, and for a moment, the redhead paused in the doorway, looking Skye over with a grin growing at the corners of her mouth that Skye just wasn't sure what to do with.

Her mind was going a mile a minute as panic started to creep up on her fast. _Oh, I am so, so busted … Coulson is gonna kill me, I just know it. I'm going to be executed … crap!_ Skye thought to herself, so wrapped up in her own panic that she almost missed it when the woman spoke.

"Logan didn't tell me he had company," the redhead said as last, shifting the food in her arms so that she could hold her hand out for Skye to shake. "I'm Heather, and this is my husband, Mac. It's _very_ nice to meet you, Ms…?"

"Oh… I'm … Skye," she said hesitantly, taking the outstretched hand before she stepped out of the doorway to let the small army inside. Her heart was threatening to beat its way out of her chest. Heather's husband was smirking hard, and Skye diverted her gaze by offering to take the cooked meat from Heather and almost ducking her head down. "I can … let me help you with that."

"I've got it," Heather said, waving her off as the grin on her face just seemed to be spreading wider and wider.

Skye nodded, and stepped back with her shoulders up to her ears and her hands in her back pockets. Mercifully though, she was able to get out from under the full force of whatever that smile was supposed to mean when one of the little girls who had come with Elsie Dee tugged on her sleeve and held her hands up to be picked up.

"Oh, okay," Skye said, bending down to scoop up the little girl, who immediately launched into a retelling of everything she had been up to in the last 24 hours or so, demanding all of Skye's attention while the rest of her friends — and Heather and Mac — mobbed the kitchen. Skye was trying hard to concentrate as her mind raced … did they know? Would they talk? They didn't look like they knew anything … _crap._

Finally, thankfully, someone came in to rescue Skye as one of the older kids slipped into the living room. "I got it," he said, plucking the girl out of Skye's arms to work on wrestling her out of her thin coat and boots to put them over by the rest of the discarded shoes and jackets by the door. It was enough of a distraction that Skye could see she wasn't the only one who had been attacked — Logan already had a small flock of about five kids, with one little boy simply sitting on Logan's foot and half wrapped around his leg, refusing to let go as he just wanted to ride around everywhere like that.

"Thanks," Skye said toward the kid, then paused when she recognized him. This was quickly becoming the assignment from hell.

This — that was just… there had to be some kind of mistake, because this was one of the kids she'd been checking into just a few weeks ago. She recognized his face from the files and from her sleuthing.

She should have realized — Logan said that some kids from the orphanage were coming… But all of a sudden, she realized she was _staring_ at the kid, completely unable to come up with anything to say, because all she could think about was the fact that Fury had wanted his name in the Reaping consideration, and she had researched him to see if that was a viable option — to see if he should _die_.

When the kid glanced back her way, though, he thankfully misread her expression entirely. "Sorry, it's a little overwhelming, I know," he said, looking honestly apologetic as he set the little girl in Mac's direction. "I'm Scott, by the way."

"Skye," she managed to say quickly, trying to recover. "We should… go… help Heather and Mac."

Scott watched her for a second before he just shrugged and nodded, though if he thought her behavior was odd, he was distracted from saying anything when one of the younger kids asked for his help reaching the cups so she could help set the table, and then Scott had a little kid in his arms and wasn't so focused on Skye. Especially when the girl was being so affectionate and telling him that he was her _favorite_.

Skye was ready to back out then and there. Logan had said it would be okay for her to hide if she just locked her bedroom door. She could just hole up in her bed with some coding without having to deal with what she was sure was a dead kid walking. She took a few steps backward toward the staircase and nearly tripped over one of the small kids that was playing behind her.

She quickly apologized and helped the little boy up — who then stole a quick kiss on the cheek — and as she put a hand on the bannister, Heather got to her.

"So, Skye, where are you from?" Heather asked with genuine interest and a warm smile. "You can't be from Seven, or I'd have seen you around before."

"No, I'm from the Capitol," Skye said — backing off of that first stair and turning toward her inquisitor. She got even more stuck and unable to hide when Elsie saw her talking with Heather and just ran over to half climb up Skye's side.

"Skye _says_ she's teaching Logan," Elsie reported, and Skye very nearly groaned out loud, wishing now that she'd come up with much less flimsy explanation for what she was doing in District Seven. It just hadn't occurred to her that she would _have_ to come up with anything, because everything pointed to Logan being a loner.

Skye had figured she'd just be up for two weeks tucked away with the newest victor and her laptop trying to teach him basic cyber-warfare in somewhat cozy quarters. And she was oh so very wrong about that.

"Oh?" Heather turned to give Skye her full attention, and Skye very much wanted to crawl under the nearest rock and hide. "What are you teaching him?"

"Just… computer stuff," Skye said lamely, even more unable to come up with a viable lie with Heather putting the pressure on. And she was wondering how she could get Elsie to _stop_ when she was just half-tucked into Skye and smiling angelically as if she wasn't getting Skye in _so_ much trouble.

"Computer stuff?" Heather repeated with both eyebrows raised. "What on earth _for_?"

"He …needed to know …um ... things. And he's a fast learner," Skye said, trying to play it off and desperately trying to recover. "And…" She made a motion toward the living room and its shelves and shelves of books. "It helps that he just likes to learn new things." She ended her statement just nodding her head and fidgeting with her fingers as she tried to look casual. This probably would have been much easier if there was a _believable_ reason for a Capitolite to be out in the districts. She actually wasn't too bad at lying her way out of things, but there was just no good excuse for her to be out here in the middle of nowhere — at least, no excuse that wouldn't get her into more trouble than she was ready for.

Heather pursed her lips for a moment and gave Skye a clear once over. "And you came all the way to District Seven, out of the goodness of your heart, to satisfy his curiosity," she said in a tone that clearly said she didn't believe a word of it.

"I... " She trailed off. "Well, yeah, more or less," she said with a shrug. "He'll .. need to know this stuff when he gets back …" But she didn't know how to explain herself further when she knew she was grasping at straws.

Heather watched her for a moment, her expression still reading that she didn't believe that explanation, though it didn't look like she was upset with Skye, either, more like she was just holding back a smile. Which only confused her more.

"So, how long have you and Logan known each other?" Heather asked, pausing to direct some of the kids on setting the food out before she turned back to Skye for her answer.

Now, this part, Skye felt she could be honest about. And that was the best policy for lying your way out of a situation — tell the truth as much as possible and bluff your way through the rest. It was what had kept her alive before Coulson found her, after all.

"We met on the train during the tour, actually," Skye said with a genuine smile. "I do some work on the Games prep teams, so we saw each other around."

"What kind of work?" Heather asked.

"I'm not actually allowed to talk about it," Skye muttered, thankful that at least that much was true. Heather just raised one eyebrow at that, though Skye did her best to look properly sheepish. "It's nothing earth-shattering like arena design or anything. I just write algorithms."

"Which is what you're teaching Logan," Heather said, still clearly not believing it as she advanced on Skye slowly.

"More or less," Skye said. She shifted a bit under Heather's gaze before she decided to try and turn the tables. "So, how does a Sentinel's wife end up with half the orphanage in the home of the newest Games victor?" she asked, biting her lip as she wondered if Heather even would answer her.

Heather smiled easily. "Logan and Mac go way back. Mac has been around for just about every time Logan got himself into trouble — at least the official kind," she said, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

"And the kids?"

Heather shrugged up both shoulders. "Someone needs to make sure these kids are taken care of, and, honestly, look at them." She gestured at the kids, a few of whom were helping to set the table, though most of them were in the living room squealing and screaming with laughter and hanging onto Mac or Logan. "I don't know what they're feeding these kids at that place, but it's clearly not enough. It's only been a few months, and you can already tell the difference."

Skye glanced over at the kids with a more critical eye and couldn't help but frown a bit. They all looked scrawny and underfed — _this_ was an improvement?

"I mean, look at Scott — he's grown almost a foot since I informed him he was coming for Friday dinners," Heather continued, and Skye just frowned at that and tried to redirect again.

"So, you're in charge of this circus?" Skye asked.

"No, no — I just feed the lions," Heather said with a smile and a laugh.

"That's… a lot of lions," Skye observed, finally starting to relax a little. If they were taking care of kids out there — which … she was reasonably sure just didn't _happen_ in the districts — maybe this wasn't the horrible scenario she was afraid it was.

"I'm not a lion — I'm a wolf," Elsie told both of them very seriously before she simply tipped her head back and did her very best wolf howl, which had the nearest kids falling apart in giggles and set off a chorus of new animal noises.

"Alright, it's officially a zoo here," Heather said, shaking her head before she looked at Elsie. "Do you want to get all the other animals into the kitchen for dinner?"

Elsie beamed and nodding, wriggling out of Skye's arms to go and corral the other kids, all of whom had their favorite animals.

"Is it always like this?" Skye asked, grinning despite herself.

"Not usually. But Logan's been gone for a while — and they have a new friend to play with," Heather said with a little smirk her way.

"I'm really not going to be here for that long," Skye said. "They shouldn't… it's really…" She shook her head as she watched the kids dragging Logan and Mac into the kitchen. "Wait. They're being cute on purpose, you mean."

"Oh, definitely," Heather said with an almost impish grin as Elsie proudly led Logan to the head of the table and the kids all settled in — all sitting according to where Elsie assigned them, as she was clearly in charge. Which meant Skye was on one side of Logan and Elsie on the other so Elsie could pester them both.

"Your minions are really something else," Logan said to Heather. "What'd you bribe 'em with this time?"

"I didn't bribe them with anything," Heather said, though her eyes were sparkling with trouble.

"You're a horrible liar," he replied with a little glare that had no heat behind it.

"Mrs. Heather got some _sweets_ ," one little boy said, leaning over Skye's side with wide eyes as he clearly couldn't keep the secret to himself.

"And what did she tell you to do?" Logan asked, watching Heather out of the corner of his eyes.

"Be nice to your lady friend," was the reply as the little boy looked very proud of himself and grinned brilliantly at Skye with a little wave — clearly being nice to her on purpose.

Skye turned pink and looked down at her food. "That's not… I'm just helping him out," she muttered.

"Well at least he's honest," Logan said before he turned Heather's way. "Are you done now? Using kids? Come on."

"Well, how else am I supposed to know what's going on with you?" Heather teased him. "I found out you had a visitor from _Elsie_."

"Well that's what happens when you send your spies out instead of asking me yourself," Logan replied smoothly. "And since when do I have to report everything I do to you, Mrs. Bossy?"

"I ask so little, Logan — I just want to have dinner with you on Fridays and know when you have big changes in your life." She tipped her head at Skye with an ill-hidden smile. "Like having such nice company."

"Yeah. Very nice. Especially considering what happened when I was in the Capitol. _Nice_ to have someone assigned to me to pull my ass outta the fire." He looked up at Mac for a moment and switched to a tone that both Mac and Heather were intimately familiar with. "I mighta pissed off a couple people. Maybe."

"That doesn't surprise me," Mac said with a smirk and a shrug. "How much trouble did you get in to get a babysitter?" he asked, a bit more seriously as he leaned forward and spoke in a lower tone.

But instead of bristling at the suggestion that he needed supervision, Logan shifted a bit and held his breath for a moment. "Just about as much as I could."

Heather and Mac shared a look for just a moment as Heather's whole body language switched to one of alarm. "Who'd you piss off?" Mac said with the beginnings of a frown.

Logan turned toward Skye for just a moment before he looked back at Mac. "Couple higher up _politicians_."

"My boss," Skye supplied, catching on. "So… here I am in the snow and the cold."

"They didn't like my sense of humor," Logan added. "Well. _He_ didn't. Little higher up than that did."

Mac shook his head at Logan and scrubbed a hand over his face. "You're lucky they just sent you home with homework and a nice tutor."

"So I'm told," he said with a shrug. "Not sorry. At all."

Mac shook his head again. "Just be careful and don't piss off the wrong people, alright?"

"Sure, _Dad._ "

"Ooooh, he called you _dad_ ," one of the kids said, which got a little chorus of giggles as Mac gave Logan a _look_.

"It's not like they don't expect that from Seven victors at this point," Scott said quietly with a look immediately afterward that said he hadn't meant to say it out loud — but was going to stand by what he said anyway.

"Yeah, I think the psychological profile said 'drunk lumberjack' whatever that means," Logan muttered back.

"Kind of an accurate description," Scott pointed out.

"That's what I said," Logan replied with a nod that had both Heather and Mac frowning. "Tell that to this one though. She's wastin' her time."

"I am _not_ ," Skye said, crossing her arms over her chest. "If I was, I sure wouldn't stick around for… anything but lessons."

Heather perked up and Logan just looked at Skye for a moment with his chin propped up on his palm, waiting for her to catch up to what she'd just said.

She caught his gaze and then just… stopped. " _I meant dinners and stuff_ ," she said in a half-scandalized whisper.

"No, it's fine. Keep digging," Logan said dryly.

"What do you two get up to when you're not having 'lessons'?" Heather asked with an obscene grin, leaning forward with both eyebrows high as some of the girls who were old enough to get it were giggling _madly_.

"There is nothing I can say at this point to get you to come out of the trees is there?" Logan asked Heather, who acted like she was thinking about it for a moment before she shook her head.

"I just think it's nice that you're not all alone in this big house after that ridiculous tour," Heather said loftily.

"And she's going back after her two weeks are up," Logan pointed out.

"Yeah, I have to get back to work," Skye said. "Other stuff to do, you know?"

When Heather looked like she was ready to start in again, Logan cut her off. "You know, I thought it wasn't polite to grill people like that — but maybe things are different out in the _woods_ with the _wolves_."

Heather shot him a _look_ for that one _,_ but at least she backed off, turning to other conversation with Mac and some of the kids as Skye discreetly gave Logan a very grateful look.

The rest of the meal passed in what more or less counted for peace with a house full of rowdy kids, though Skye had barely finished eating when she was seized by several small hands and dragged off to go play in the living room as the kids clearly wanted to make the most out of their time with their newest friend.

Heather took that as her cue to seize Logan for herself and pulled him aside, her eyes bright as she pointed her finger at him. " _You_ took a pretty girl home from the Capitol," she said.

"No — she showed up on her own. I had no idea she was coming," Logan replied. "Knew I was in trouble, but I didn't know it would be her."

"You can't have been in that much trouble, if _she_ is your punishment," Heather said with a distinct spark of trouble in her tone.

"Why? Just because she's pretty?" he asked, crossing his arms and giving her a look.

Heather just beamed at that. "I knew it."

"Knew what? That I can spot a pretty girl? I'm not _blind_ ," he said as he rolled his eyes. "But I really did get on the _wrong_ radar."

"The last time you got on the wrong radar, someone else came to straighten you out. I know — Mac told me," Heather pointed out, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "And this time, my trouble has _his_ head on the line."

She dropped a bit of her teasing look as she raised her eyebrows. "That high up?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "That high."

"What did you _do_?" she asked, clearly taken aback now.

"It doesn't really matter at this point," he said. "I can't do it again anyhow, and I can't tell you what led up to it."

Heather just frowned a bit and shook her head. "I don't like the idea of you catching any attention at that level. That's bad for everyone."

"I know. It wasn't intentional," he promised before he let out a breath. "But Skye's trying to make sure I don't step on anyone's toes like that again, and she _is_ prepping me for what I need to know when they make me go back."

"She told me she was a computer-something or other."

"Official line and only partly true," he replied. "All the victors need to know basics, and since I'm rated at 'drunk lumberjack,' I get the more intense course. But do yourself a favor and don't read any of the papers."

"Why?" she asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Because you're smart enough to read between the lines, and I wish you just wouldn't."

Heather gave him a little smirk. "I think you just complimented me by insulting me," she teased.

"Part of how I got in trouble," he replied with a self-deprecating look. "But the other way around. Luckily, they weren't smart enough to catch it."

Heather just sighed and reached over to rest a hand on his arm. "Just be careful, alright? Those are dangerous waters."

"So I'm told," he said, nodding. "But that girl? She is trying to _help_. Don't traumatize her just because you got cabin fever and want to play matchmaker."

"That's not what I'm trying to do," Heather pointed out before she stepped forward and gave him a hug. "I just ... want to see you happy is all. It's been a long time."

"That … is no reason to drag her down with me," he half laughed, returning her hug. "You and I both know I'm no good for _anyone_. But while we're on it — do me a favor and try to rein in the minions? We really do have a lot of work to get done and I don't think I'm smart enough to soak it all in before the clock runs out."

"That's a lie," Heather said with a smirk. "But I'll rein in the zoo, sure." She just gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before she headed off to go round up the kids, past the half-open door where Skye had been unable to resist eavesdropping.

It took her a good few moments to get her blush back under control, listening to the way Heather was talking her up. And the fact that Logan thought she was pretty…. She shook her head. _Be. Professional,_ she scolded herself before she went back out to get mobbed by kids all over again.

For the most part, the rest of the little impromptu gathering was peaceful, if not completely entertaining, and when it was over, Skye had to almost laugh at the relieved look on Logan's face as he dropped heavily onto the couch and covered his face with his hands then leaned back until his head was resting on the back of the couch.

"You didn't have to put up with any of that," he said with a groan as he tried to relax. "Even if I tell her to knock it off, she'll come back next week anyhow." He picked up his head to look her way. "She took my spare key and has a few boundary issues."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out all on my own," she replied, still a little wary of saying much of anything to him after overhearing what she had. "But ... if you're not too fried, we really do need to get back to work. You're doing _great_ — but you have a way to go still."

"Got it. Can't make you look bad," he said with a nod. He had just gotten to his feet as she set up her laptop when the phone rang in the next room over. Logan's shoulders dropped a bit on hearing it, and Skye had to smirk a bit wider when he swore out loud.

Charles Xavier had been _trying_ to talk to him, and Logan admitted that he'd called already no less than three times since he'd returned to Seven. But she didn't expect him to handle the conversation the way that he did.

He sounded tired — more tired than Skye knew he was — when he answered the phone and stood in the doorway, leaning in the frame. As the man on the other end of the phone talked, Logan put the phone on his chest and looked around himself until he picked up a sheet of paper. "I'm sure you know what you're talking about and you're very impressive — but I really don't like to talk on the phone," Logan said before he started wadding up the paper and rubbing it against the receiver. "You're breaking up. Static on the line." Logan reached up and simply pulled the cord off of the phone. "Oops. Got disconnected," Logan said before he just dropped the receiver on the table near the phone and headed over to where Skye was grinning at him.

"That is _so_ not how you do static," she told him, entirely amused as he sat down next to her.

"Hey. I was working with what I had. What the hell do I know about making fake static?" he said before he pointed to himself. "Not the smartest guy in Seven."

"Oh. I'm going to have to teach you some of that stuff too," she replied, still laughing as she set up his next lesson. "Paper. That's … you really are bad at this tech stuff."

"So shut up and make me better," he shot back with a little smirk. "Not sure what you were expecting from some rando lumberjack."

"Oh, it's so happening," she promised him with a smirk to match, much more relaxed after that bit of comic relief.


	39. The Walls Have (Hawk)Eyes and Ears

**Notes: *deep sigh of happiness* It's so nice to get chapters like this on occasion. Just… enjoying the normal everyday lives of our undead kiddies. No tours, no disasters…(yet).**

* * *

 **Chapter 39: "The Walls Have (Hawk)Eyes and Ears"**

* * *

 _January 21_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"You sure you can fit in here without straining something?" Kate teased from inside the vents of the Tahiti Wing. Clint just pulled a face at her through the grate.

"Claire cleared me — what more do you want?" Clint asked, shrugging up both shoulders as he pulled the grate off, and Kate backed up a bit so he could climb in. Once he was settled and had returned the vent cover to its proper place, he glanced her way. "So. What's the scoop, Katie-Kate?"

She reached into her pocket and produced the can of aerosol spray that North had given her as a late birthday present. "This," she explained, "will help us know which grates have lasers. So we can explore properly."

Clint broke out into a huge grin at that and shooed her forward with both hands. "Sounds great! Lead the way, Hawkeye."

By that point, the two of them knew their way handily around the ductwork that led through the residential areas as well as the areas like the rec room, but they hadn't gone exploring down toward the offices after they found the first pressure plate in the vents there. But when Kate sprayed the aerosol, they were surprised to find that there were only lasers in one direction, and both Hawkeyes glanced at each other, the beginnings of grins on both of their faces.

"Let's see how far we can get," Clint prompted, and Kate nodded enthusiastically.

The two of them helped each other past the pressure plates in the vents, using each other's shoulders and knees to get over the spots in the floor that would give them away, and with each new turn, Kate would spray the aerosol, marking the spots in their now well-worn map where they encountered lasers as they kept up their exploration.

It didn't escape either of their notice that most of the lasers, by their estimation, were about where Essex's office was.

Still, they were curious to see what they _could_ find that wasn't blocked off by lasers, and they had just about reached the end of one passageway — since the Tahiti area had its own separate ventilation system from the rest of the building — when they heard voices drifting in through one of the nearby grates.

Kate and Clint both glanced at each other before Clint very careful spelled out C-H-A-R-L-I-E for her — he recognized at least one of the voices.

Kate just nodded at that and responded with C-O-U-L-S-O-N. Clint gave her a little nod in response, and the two of them crept forward as quietly as possible until they were as close as they could get to the grate above Coulson's office. Apparently, the stoic SHIELD agent had returned to the Tahiti side of things — and Charles wasn't about to let Coulson get very far without words being exchanged.

"I know the reports read differently, but I am telling you, Barton was telling the truth," Charles said.

"And I'm telling you, I've been through the logs and the video records, and Romanoff never left this facility," Coulson replied.

Charles let out a patient sigh as he tried to walk Coulson through it. "And who has access to alter those records?"

Coulson shook his head. "I want him gone as much as you do, but I can't go to Fury on an eighteen-year-old's word. You know that won't convince him."

"Then humor me for just a moment, for the sake of argument," Charles said. "So that we can build our case on more solid ground. Surely there is camera footage of the scuffle that happened."

"I can pull it for you if you want to see it," Coulson agreed. He sank down heavily in his seat for a moment as he seemed to think his next words over. "You know I believe you — and frankly, I believe Barton, too; when the kid lies, it's much more outlandish. But Fury…"

"That was my thought as well," Charles agreed. "And I know that it won't be enough for Fury — but it would be enough, perhaps, for us to find a way to monitor him more efficiently."

Coulson nodded thoughtfully. "I can bring it to Hill as a _suspicion_. She'd love to have more cameras on anyone outside of herself and Fury."

Charles nodded his agreement and took a small breath before turning to the next matter at hand. "I hate to ask it, but I also need to make sure that I have my own private access to Miss Romanoff. Essex has been insisting on supervising." He paused a moment. "If he'd like to argue that she prefers him, I'd suggest we simply inform the others that they be allowed the same courtesy of choosing an exclusive therapist rather than meeting with both of us."

Coulson chuckled at that. " _That_ would get him to back off. I know every single one of those kids would be on your side in a heartbeat." He paused to think it over before he nodded. "It was never in the agreement when we brought you on that you work _under_ him — it's supposed to be in tandem. He's not your supervisor, and he has no authority to deny you access, and I'll be sure to remind him of that."

"I appreciate that," Charles replied kindly. He leaned forward with a spark to his gaze and added, "One more … item to be brought to your attention. The oppressive segregation that Essex has insisted on in our absence. The relationships built — mostly in friendship — are of the utmost importance to all of them. And if that's not enough of an argument, the staff is starting to complain about the doubled hours."

Coulson frowned for a long moment. "Essex picked a really awful time to go off the rails," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Well the children were dealing with him and his rules the whole time we were on the tour," Charles said, the annoyance clear in his tone even with his calm he sounded. "It's clear to me that Essex cannot be left alone with these children for any appreciable length of time again."

Coulson leaned forward a bit, and it was clear the normally stoic agent was annoyed because he scrubbed both hands over his face before he got his usual non-expression back. "I'll reinstate the original rules, but Charles — I don't have time right now to enforce it."

"I understand," he said with a nod. "My schedule has gotten much fuller than I expected it would need to be as well."

"Yeah, these past few weeks haven't exactly gone as planned," Coulson had to agree. "For good and bad. I know the victors have asked for more time in your office with their additional free time, and I appreciate the work you're doing there."

"Well some of them are far easier to deal with than others," Charles admitted.

Coulson frowned, knowing exactly where Charles was headed with that. "Has Logan spoken with you at all? I read the transcript on one of the phone calls. One minute and eight seconds," Coulson finished with a raised eyebrow.

"A record for him, really." Charles smirked lightly. "He claims he doesn't like talking on the phone."

"Then send him a carrier pigeon," Coulson replied. "He's a loose cannon, and with everything else going on, we don't need that on top of it."

"He simply handles things differently than most," Charles said.

"No kidding," Coulson said dryly. He shook his head for a moment before he straightened up. "Right. I'll talk to Essex about dropping his insane power grab and micromanagement projects — and then I'll go to Hill about micromanaging _Essex_. Anything else you need?"

"Just to tell you my offer is open to your team should they need to talk to someone about recent events."

That actually got Coulson to pause. "They might just take you up on that. You've read the report, I'm sure. I know the circle was small, but you and Morse were included in the memo."

"Yes, I've read the report," Charles said. "And a betrayal of that magnitude will have far-reaching consequences on the team as a whole."

"I'm giving them a bit of a break," Coulson admitted. "May's dealing with the main problem, but Skye has her own assignment, and I know Fitzsimmons would prefer to play in the Tahiti labs for a few weeks before we get them back on Games prep. I think it would be good to give them something else to focus on. A little palate cleanser."

"That's likely exactly what they all need," Charles agreed.

"I'll make sure they know about your offer," Coulson told him with a bit of a smile. "Who knows — they might actually take it. But for right now, I have a mess to clean up that isn't one self-important doctor interfering with teenage love lives. I'll get back to you as soon as I have something actionable, though."

"Good luck, Agent Coulson," Charles said before the two of them simply parted company.

And in the vents, the two Hawkeyes shared a glance over what they'd just overheard, and without a word, the two of them simply pushed themselves backward and away from the grate, afraid to say anything until they were well and truly away from any possibility of being overheard.

Finally, Clint was the first to break the silence. "He's not wrong," he said quietly.

"Which one?" Kate asked.

"Coulson. He's not wrong." He glanced up at Kate with a little smirk playing over his features. "Given the choice, we'd all pick Charlie in a second. And I think Essex knows it. That's why he's so dead set against the guy."

Kate had to nod her agreement, though she was thinking more about the fact that Charles was speaking with Logan than anything else. "Think we could find a way to get to Charles' office?"

Clint frowned her way. "Kate, I don't really want to be listening in on that kind of stuff. His sessions are private—"

"No, not for sessions. I just… I want to hear how Logan is doing."

Clint frowned for a second. "You should do better than just eavesdropping for the guy," he pointed out.

"Well, then what do _you_ suggest?" Kate asked with one eyebrow raised. "It's not like I have a lot of options."

"I dunno — talk it over with your boys."

She rolled her eyes and uncrossed her arms to reach out and lightly tap his shoulder. "You _are_ one of my boys."

Clint just laughed quietly at that one. "I didn't realize I'd been inducted."

"Happened as soon as you dared me to thread Loki's shoelaces," Kate told him with a sideways smile.

He laughed outright at that one, shaking his head for a second before he grew a little more serious. "I don't know ... we'll have to think about it. Sleep on it maybe and then bring it to Kurt and Pete. I'll see if I can get Bobbi to teach me how to deflect lasers, too. Much as it'd be nice to know what the last of your alliance is up to? I'm thinking it'd be even better to be able to eavesdrop on Essex."

"He spends most of his time on the other side of Tahiti ... you know… the super lockdown area," Kate pointed out. "I doubt we'll hear much from his 'official' office."

"Probably just a whole lotta him pretending to toe the company line and then terrorizing the kids that come into his office for his stupid sessions," Clint had to agree. He shook his head. "I'm still working on trying to find a way to break into that half of the building. It's pretty well-insulated, but I'll get there." His eyes flashed the slightest bit as he added, "Dunno how, but I will."

Kate paused and turned to look at him for a second before she just had to let out a breath. She knew how he'd felt about Natasha and couldn't help wondering if that was part of what was fueling him to go after Essex so hard… though then again, the poisoning and everything that had come with it had just solidified that hatred... "If you need any help with that, just let me know."

"Wouldn't dream of breaking up the Hawkeyes team up," he promised her, and she just grinned at that.

* * *

 _January 22_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Kate _had_ been headed down to an early-morning workout, but Jan stopped her before she could get there with a little bit of a twinkle in her eyes.

"You're going the wrong way," she said brightly, which just had Kate raising an eyebrow.

"No, I'm pretty sure I know where the training room is," Kate pointed out, but for some reason, that just got Jan to grin wider.

"Coffee first," Jan told her, and when she kept right on with that same grin, Kate's slow-moving morning mind finally caught up to the implications of a _different schedule._

The two of them made their way down to the cafeteria, where, to Kate's delight, most of the Tahiti kids — boys _and_ girls — were having their breakfast together. It was clear that everyone had sorely missed their friends, as instead of the usual little groupings at the tables, everyone was all clustered together.

Sin was seated between Bruce and Tony, and Bruce couldn't stop smiling to himself on watching Tony's increasingly unsuccessful attempts to get Sin to stop messing with him and stealing food off his plate, especially since Pepper was clearly egging her friend on.

But when they weren't stealing each other's food, Tony and Pepper had their heads together over Pepper's tablet, chatting quickly and quietly about the ways that she could streamline her organization for her work with Coulson — as it seemed Tony was considering creating an entire program just for ease in data sifting.

Clint and Carol had been chatting back and forth — and a lot of the piloting terminology went over the heads of the others in the group — but Clint looked up when he saw the two of them arrive and waved them over with a wide grin. "C'mon, Katie Kate. Who knows how long this bout of sanity will last?" he called out to her, and they shared a little private smirk across the cafeteria, both of them knowing exactly who to thank for the fact that the guys and girls were allowed to coexist once more.

But Wade and Cassie were the real pair to watch as the two of them were openly holding hands and _obviously_ enjoying themselves as Cassie flat out grinned every time Wade stole a bite from her plate and tried to act nonchalant about it.

Kate glanced over at Jan with one eyebrow raised in an unasked question, and the older woman just grinned widely. "We're back to the old schedule. And Essex is getting a dressing down from Coulson up in the main part of SHIELD, so ... you know. Enjoy the downtime of not being watched. I'm sure this is just the first rule to get relaxed," Jan said with a sparkle in her eyes.

At that, Kate grinned over at Clint, who had the same sort of almost-laughing look on his face as she did, and she seated herself across from him and Carol.

It wasn't too long after that when Peter and Kurt arrived as well, both of them deep in conversation about something.

"I'm telling you, Kurt, it would totally work. I mean, we did all that work at the beginning of the year…"

"I'm sure it will; but we'll have to get help…" Kurt trailed off when he and Peter saw the mixed company seated at breakfast, and then when he saw Kate waving him over, that seemed to seal the deal for a _huge_ grin as both of the boys went over to sit on either side of Kate. Peter gave her a quick little 'missed you' hug, but Kurt's hug lasted for a lot longer, since he'd seen that Wade and Cassie were holding hands openly and decided to follow their lead, leaving his arm around Kate.

The mood was relaxed as every single one of the kids was just happy to have the chance to hang out with their friends — regardless of whether or not those relationships were romantic. It was the first time in a long time that there had been this much joking around and laughing, and of course, Wade and Cassie were again the ones to watch when it came to cheering everyone up, as the first time Cassie tried to return the favor and steal one of Wade's mini muffins, he let out a great gasp and looked incredibly stricken.

"Cassielang, you are a _thief_!" he declared, and she simply broke down in giggles before she popped the whole muffin in her mouth at once just to get him laughing too.

"Need to work on your sneak, Cas," Clint told her with a smirk, demonstrating his own sneakiness by stealing a piece of toast off Peter's plate when he was distracted

"What if I don't _want_ to be sneaky?" Cassie shot right back with a grin that had Wade just smirking wider than any of them had ever seen from him.

"Well then that's your business, ain't it?" Clint said with a little twinkle in his eyes before he leaned back and took a huge bite of the toast he'd just stolen — and Peter sort of did a small double-take trying to figure out where his toast had gone.

"Sure is," Cassie agreed with a giggle, rearranging the fingers threaded through Wade's with a prim little smile that had Jan and Ororo exchanging little knowing looks across the table as they joined the breakfast party and the entire lot of the Tahiti program fell into easy conversation and actually just… _relaxed_.

* * *

 _January 23_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Tony was working away, tinkering on a few new weapons for several of the kids. The grappling arrow had been a hit with _both_ Hawkeyes, and now he had three or five new arrowheads in development that he was sure they'd enjoy.

Explosive tip. Acid arrows. Putty …. Those were all working well, and seemed balanced enough — at least when Tony had tried them out. He was elbow-deep in a few other less-than-lethal options so they could capture and interrogate, and although the shocker was showing amazing promise, the bola was just ... irritating.

He'd barely gotten it loaded when the mechanism that held it together gave way and blew up in his face. He just barely got his hands up in time to protect his head as the three weights whipped around his arms and tied his wrists together.

"Well that's just perfect," Tony muttered as he looked at how tangled the wires were that held his wrists together. "How the hell…"

"Well. If we'd have known you were all tied up we would have called first," Peter said as he and Kurt stepped into his workshop, with Kate close behind smirking _so hard_ as she looked over some of the experimental arrows, letting the boys chat while she tested the balance of them.

"Perfect. Hey. Parker — could you - just … just cut it loose, alright?" Tony said, holding his hands out to Peter. Of course, Peter rushed to find a knife to do exactly that, but before he could cut him free, Kurt laid a hand on Peter's shoulder to stop him from freeing Tony.

"Perhaps … we could ask you a favor first," Kurt said, the whisper of a smile on his face as he spoke.

"Well … it's not like I can say no right now — even though I'm sure I should," Tony said, with a little frown. "In fact, maybe I should. Pepper's supposed to come see me in a little while. I'll just let her do the honors."

"No, no — she and Coulson were going to sift through all kinds of intel from the tour," Peter said, catching on quickly to Kurt's obvious blackmail set up.

"Okay. Fine," Tony said with an obvious glare. "Just ... tell me what you want and make it snappy."

"I want you to tap into the cameras in Logan's house," Kurt said.

"You want me to ... _why_?" Tony stared at Peter and shifted, trying unsuccessfully to get out of the ropes binding him.

"It doesn't really matter why; I just want you to do it in exchange for your relative freedom," Kurt replied. "Or you can wait for Essex to come help you." He leaned back on the workbench, totally relaxed as he watched Tony sputter.

Kate grinned and leaned against the wall, her expression borderline obnoxious. "Take him for his gold, dread pirate," she teased, clearly enjoying the show.

Kurt just gave her a little grin before he turned his attention back to Tony. "So, what do you say? Do I need to string you up before you'll cooperate?"

Tony gave him a very irritated look before he rolled his eyes and took a seat. "I can't exactly do that unless you untie me."

"I want a tablet like Pepper's, too — not as fancy — but something you can send video and audio feeds to," Kurt added, simply enjoying his newfound swashbuckling position.

"Make it purple," Kate added, coming over to rest her chin on Kurt's shoulder, grinning widely as she slid her arms around him and looked every bit the damsel to Kurt's pirate captain.

If it were possible for Tony to roll his eyes right out of his head, he would have as he half groaned out a resigned " _Fine_." He held his hands up again. "Scout's honor, now would you _please_ cut me loose?"

The Team Awesome kids all shared a look before Peter grinned and rushed over to do just that. "Guess that makes me first mate," he said as he cut Tony loose.

When he was freed, Tony gave them all a little glare as he went back to his bench. "You want the tablet or the feed first?"

"The feed," Kate and Kurt said simultaneously, then grinned at each other.

"You're all insane," Tony muttered as his fingers flew across the keys in front of him.

It took him a bit longer than Kurt had anticipated, and enough time passed that he was starting to think that he was going to have to simply come back, when Tony pushed back from his screen and did a little one-handed presentation. "Do you mind _not_ taking my treasures for now? Seeing as we're already buried. Sixteen dead men … or … something."

"You were doing so well until the 'or something,'" Kate teased him, leaning over Kurt's shoulder as Kurt looked over the feed.

"Well, seeing as it should be sixteen men on a dead man's chest ... it didn't quite fit," Tony defended.

"Well you were screwed with the stipulation that they all be men anyway," Kate pointed out.

"Fair point," Tony conceded as he watched the three of them gathered. "So, what are you looking for anyhow?"

"We just want to make sure he's okay," Peter said with a shrug. "I mean, you saw how he was on the tour."

"Yeah. Hard to miss. Change cameras with the arrows," Tony said. "And let me know how miserable he looks, please."

Kurt gave Tony a _look_ but did as Tony had directed, and all three awesomes seemed to lean in — in unison — when they saw that not only was Logan making dinner for a guest but that his guest was a pretty young lady sitting on his counter, smiling and chatting with him over the top of a laptop. "Who's _that_?" Peter asked before he could quite stop himself.

"No idea," Kate said, shaking her head. "Cute, though." Both Peter and Kurt gave her a look for that one, and she just shrugged. "She is."

Tony peeked over their shoulders and let out a noise that was equal parts frustration and jealousy. "Yeah, okay, I hate him. Not even sorry."

"You can't be jealous — you have Pepper, the terrifyingly organized redhead," Peter pointed out.

"Locked away, underground," Tony replied. "With Count Dracula watching us all the time."

"Ah, but Agent Van Helsing is helping with that particular problem," Kurt said with a bit of a smirk, unable to resist the reference.

"I'm going to call him that now, and see what he does," Kate informed him, and Kurt just chuckled at her.

Peter cleared his throat, trying to get his two teammates back on track. "Well, it … _sorta_ looks like he's doing okay. I thought Charles said he was miserable?"

"Well, he is _home_ now," Kate said as though that was answer enough.

"With a pretty girl," Tony added.

"That's pretty much all you need, really," Kate agreed and made her point by kissing Kurt's cheek before she looked to Tony. "Purple tablet next or I'll sic my pirate captain on you."

"I'll have all your feeds pre-loaded," Tony promised. "You know. So you can see how the other side lives — all cozy little dinners and God only knows what. It'll be in a folder named 'Peeping Elf'."

"Really," Kurt said Tony's way, but Kate was just laughing.

"Speaking of cozy little dinners," Kate said, pulling on Kurt's hand. "I'm starved."

"For attention," Peter said in a whisper Tony's way.

"Just _go_ ," Tony said, shooing them all. "Some of us have _work_ to do."

"I think we're distracting, oh cap-i-tan," Peter laughed Kurt's way. "We should go plunder somewhere else." With that, the three of them left the room in a rush of laughter and pirate jokes as Kate and Peter were already determining positions on Captain Kurt's ship.

* * *

 _January 24_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Ororo wasn't doing anything in particular, just munching on an apple that she'd snitched from the kitchens — her favorite pasttime, and one that she liked to keep up with or she'd get rusty — when she heard what honestly sounded like movement in the walls.

She paused and glanced around the hallway but didn't see anyone else, so she closed her fist around the apple, ready for trouble as she pressed her ear to the wall to try and determine what the sound was.

When she heard muffled swearing, she couldn't help but shake her head and grin to herself as she crouched down to where the vent cover was. "Hawkeye?" she called out.

More muffled swearing, though much quieter the second time around, and then Clint finally pulled himself up to the grate. "Oh. Hey, 'Ro," he said as casually as if this was just an everyday meeting and he'd only just passed her in the hallway. "Mind not staring through the grate? If the vampire catches you on camera, he might get smart."

"Of course," she said, still grinning to herself as she stood up and leaned against the wall, going back to her apple as she did so. "What are you doing in the walls, anyway?"

"Going to go see Bobbi," he said, and even without looking, Ororo could hear the crooked grin in his voice. "Don't tell her where I was, would you? She still hasn't figured out how I've been getting around, and it's fun to stump the super spy."

Ororo only grinned wider as she nodded. "Don't worry; I won't tell," she promised. "But if you were any louder, you'd have told the whole Tahiti program where you are all on your own."

"Yeeeeeeah." She heard Clint let out a long breath. "I… mighta pulled something on that last turn back there."

Ororo paused in eating her apple and frowned. "Pulled what?"

"Oh, nothing important," Clint said, and she could practically see him airily waving her off. "I'll re-wrap when I get to Bobbi's."

"Shouldn't you maybe get that seen to?" Ororo asked. "You could pick up all kinds of nasty stuff in that dirty hole in the wall."

Clint snorted, and the sound echoed in the walls. "Yeah. What am I gonna tell the vampire when he comes to poke at me again?"

"So you'd rather just bleed in the walls."

"Ororo—"

"Seriously, Clint, do _not_ make me come in there after you," she said, and as she spoke, she crouched down again by the vent cover. She looked through the cover into the cramped vent beyond, and she suddenly felt her heart constrict and her palms go sweaty.

She saw a blonde head come around the corner of one of the vents in there and tried to get a better hold of herself, taking deep and steadying breaths, but she could hear the concern in Clint's voice even as he reached the vent cover and tried to joke, "Don't make me come out there."

She let out a breath of a laugh that wasn't quite as controlled as she wanted it to be.

Clint watched her for a moment longer in concern before he finally got the cover off and, with a groan that betrayed just how badly he was hurting, he pulled himself out of the wall. "You doing okay?"

"I'm fine," Ororo said quietly.

Clint tipped his head at her for a moment, simply watching her, before he nodded once and gave her a crooked little smile. "Mind taking me to medical, then?" he asked. "Looks like I might need an escort," he added, gesturing down to where he had clearly pulled his stitches and was bleeding freely.

Ororo closed her eyes for a moment and breathed out a tiny chuckle, knowing he was giving her something to do and appreciating it all the same. "If you think you need a babysitter," she teased lightly.

"If you listen to what, oh, anybody who knows me thinks? I always do," he laughed as he draped an arm around her shoulders, and she couldn't help but laugh at him as she helped the still-injured archer own the hall.

"Sorry about your date," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

"I've got crap luck," Clint said easily. "Don't worry about it."


	40. Hawkeye in the Middle

**Notes: Well, the Clintasha monster says that it's time for a chapter like this, and as we all know, we are powerless to the demands of the Clintasha monster :P**

* * *

 **Chapter 40: Hawkeye in the Middle**

* * *

 _January 26_

 _Charles Xavier's Tahiti Office_

* * *

"Thank you for joining me, Miss Morse," Charles said in a relieved tone as Bobbi joined him in his office and closed the door behind her. She was just ahead of his other expected guest, and the tension was palpable in the air ahead of her arrival. "The last thing I wanted to do was to pull Mr. Barton in on this so soon after his injury."

"It's no problem," Bobbi assured him, her arms crossed over her chest as she shrugged. "Didn't exactly think Clint should be in on this right now either." Her body language read that she was relaxed as she leaned back, but she was ready to aid Charles if need be — this was the first time since Natasha shot Clint that she would be out of Essex's supervision, and they weren't sure how she would react to it.

"You know her well enough, I think," Charles said. "And I appreciate the back up." He waited for the guards to bring the little redhead in, and he was not the least bit surprised at her reluctance to cooperate as she was practically dragging her feet to slow down the guards. "Is there any particular reason you detest being in my company?" he asked her once the door was closed behind her.

Natasha stood as far back from Charles as she could, her back literally against the wall as she regarded both of the victors in the room through narrowed eyes. "Yes."

"Would you mind sharing?" Charles said. "Unlike many of the others in this division, I invite constructive criticism."

She just continued to glare at him. "No."

"Then perhaps you could tell me why you shot your old district partner?"

Natasha raised both eyebrows in an expression of surprise. "Clint was shot?"

Charles held her gaze steadily, completely unmoved by her tone or expression. "Yes, and I have the video of you pulling the trigger. Repeatedly."

"No, you don't," Natasha said with her arms crossed. "I didn't do any such thing, and even if I did, if you had video of me, you would have arrested me."

"I'm not sure how much further under arrest you'd like to be," Charles pointed out.

"I thought I was here to get the 'join SHIELD' speech, not to be accused of things I didn't do" Natasha shot back.

"You don't get to join SHIELD when you've tried to kill one of SHIELD's operatives."

"I didn't try to kill anyone," Natasha said firmly.

"No, you were happy to simply poison him and leave him for dead," Charles said calmly. "Perhaps for HYDRA to pick up?"

"I thought you said he was shot. You should keep your stories straight if you're going to keep accusing me of things I didn't do," she said with the slightest of smirks.

"I said he was shot. Not that he was killed." Charles just smiled warmly at her. "You don't realize it, but you have a tell when you lie."

"I'll keep that in mind next time I play poker," she said, though it was clear the idea annoyed her.

"Well I'm afraid that won't be any time soon. If this is as cooperative as you'll be, you'll be stuck playing solitaire for a good, long time."

Natasha let out a frustrated breath. "I don't know what more you _want_. I'm here, I haven't even yelled at you for flinging around baseless accusations…"

"Just the truth, Miss Romanoff. That's all I've ever wanted from you." Charles sounded honestly tired as he said it, and Bobbi frowned his way for a moment — though it was the only movement she gave away.

Natasha smirked. "If I have a tell, then you should _know_ I've been as honest with you as I can be."

"As any Red Room brainwashed girl could be," he said before he turned to Bobbi. "I hate to do it, but I think the new facility would be better suited for her." He looked somehow wearier at the thought.

"You'd have to get higher-up permission," Bobbi said with a shrug. "But it's not a bad idea."

"It was suggested by higher up before the tour," Charles admitted as he watched Bobbi for a moment, ignoring the other girl in the room. "I don't want to."

Natasha frowned between the two of them, disconcerted by the turn the conversation had taken. "I don't — I thought there was just this place and where I am," she said carefully.

"You won't be going back to Dr. Essex either way," Charles said.

That got her honestly upset as she lowered her arms, hands in fists, and looked between the two. "This was just _one session._ You can't extend it indefinitely."

Charles let out a sigh and stared at the papers in front of him. "You were on thin ice before I had to leave," he told her carefully. "The powers that be were willing to give you the therapist of your choice, but you've only spiralled deeper into … _whatever_ this is in that time. That isn't just my assessment. The fact that you refuse to tell me the truth on even the finest and most irrelevant details points to the fact that you likely cannot be trusted at _all._ " He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, clearly displeased with the options in front of him.

"I haven't _spiralled_ ," Natasha said, sounding supremely insulted.

"The only emotional reaction you've shown at all outside of a stubborn defiance was anger when you were told you couldn't go back to a physician who has openly admitted that psychiatry is not his forte."

"Better than letting _you_ do it," she sneered.

"And yet, every operative that has trusted themselves to my care has improved — while you have gotten deeper and deeper into the same mindset you had before your Games. If I thought it would help, I'd bring Logan in for you two to fight."

"I thought you wanted me to be in a better mindset than the Games."

"I do, and you're right back to where you were before the Games. Your profile and psychological markers are nearly identical. No growth. And closer to madness." Charles paused, resting his head on one hand. "I'm sorry, Miss Romanoff."

"That's just not true," she insisted.

"And you are no expert in this matter. So lost in your own lies and those told to you that you have become pathological," Charles countered, supremely tired. "I know that at this point, you'd say or do anything simply to get out — to return to your old handlers. But even if you could go — you would be sorely upset to find they are all gone."

"That's a _lie_ ," she half snarled at him. "You don't know how deeply the Red Room's influence runs—"

"The Red Room's finished," Bobbi replied. "Unless that's your admission that someone from there is here. And I know they are."

"You don't know anything," Natasha snapped at her.

"Sign the papers, Charles," Bobbi said, holding Natasha's gaze with a deeply set glare. "You're wasting your time here. Fury's right."

"You're both hypocrites," Natasha said, nearly at the point of hysterics. "You ask me to tell you the truth — I _told you_ I didn't try to kill Clint. And then you stand here and lie to me about the Red Room, about everything else. I _didn't do anything_."

"I'm afraid between the two of you, I'm far more inclined to believe Mr. Barton," Charles said.

"Where is he, anyway?" she asked suddenly, spinning on her heel to face him. "If he was here, he'd back me up — I wouldn't try to kill him, and he knows it."

At that, Charles reached across the desk to push a button on a small tape recorder that played the full account, both hypnotized and otherwise, of Clint's shooting. The entire time it played, Charles didn't even bother watching Natasha, making it clear that he'd more or less given up. "By all means," Charles said softly when it ended. "Continue to lie to me. It's gotten you so far."

As Charles reached for his pen, Natasha snapped. With a look of pure fury, she made a rush for him, clearly meaning to get her hands around his neck — but Bobbi had anticipated the move and met her there, producing the staves that had been entirely hidden from view until that point as she hit Natasha in the face with one and in the stomach with the other, breaking Natasha's nose and doubling her over. Natasha gasped and spun, hooking one arm around Bobbi's shoulder to try and get her to lose her grip on the staves, but Bobbi pulled her over, slamming her to the ground before she simply used the butt of both staves to knock her out — though in the process, she had completely knocked over most of Charles paperwork as she used the desk as leverage.

"Sorry about that, Charles," she said, straightening up with a few papers in hand that she placed on the desk.

"I knew it was going to happen," Charles admitted, perfectly calm still. "I wasn't lying, though. I hate to send her off."

"She tried to kill you," Bobbi pointed out. "Unsuccessfully, but still."

"She's not the first," Charles said with a tight smile.

"She's Red Room. You're wasting your time — we've never been able to get one of those on our side," Bobbi said, putting her staves away again.

"While she's here, yes. There is one of them in our ranks," Charles said. "I'll give her a few weeks and then have Fury take me for a visit. Some distance to clear her head."

"If you want a hand, I don't mind tossing her again. She might've ticked me off a little," Bobbi said with a small smile.

Charles smirked at that. "I'm sure that the director will be protection enough."

"Well, the offer still stands anytime you need it. I've got a little free time," Bobbi said, the smile growing a bit.

"Perhaps you can put some thought into how I can get through to our young friend in Seven. He's .. less than cooperative — but still better than this," he said, gesturing to Natasha.

"I'll talk to the awesomes," Bobbi promised as she gathered up the rest of the files. "And Charles — good luck."

Charles smiled at the younger victor as he helped her finish reordering the paperwork, and when the guards arrived to remove Natasha, he left with them to see her off, allowing Bobbi to head off on her own. She was part of the way down the hall when Clint caught up with her with a sideways grin — though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nice takedown," he told her as he threw an arm around her shoulder.

"Oh, you caught that, huh?" Bobbi asked. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you know me, and you know I can't be stopped," he teased lightly, and she couldn't help but shake her head at him.

"She was going to try to kill him," Bobbi said.

The smile dropped entirely as he let out a breath. "Yeah. I saw."

"She'll be fine; he's not giving up on her," Bobbi promised, seeing the change that came over him so drastically. "It's just that ... we can't get rid of Essex yet, and he seems to be the root of the problem with her. So, she's gotta go where he can't screw her up more, turning her against Charles like that."

"Yeah, kinda makes me want to hit our resident den vampire," Clint admitted.

"Coulson has a plan. I don't know what it is yet, but even if it doesn't feel like it… it's moving. Really," she said before she gave him a bright smile, squeezing his arm as she tried to cheer him up.

"Yeah, Charles and Coulson — probably my new favorite team up," Clint said, then paused and gave her a crooked grin. "Well. Second favorite."

"Still loving the Kurt and Kate combo, huh?" she teased.

"Ooh, you're right. They bump Charles and Coulson down to third," he said half seriously as he considered it.

"I don't suppose you could help me find the awesomes?" she asked.

"Ah, well, I know where two of them are? But they are _not_ to be disturbed. So ... let's find Pete," he said, shrugging up to his ears. "Last I heard, he was with Stark and Banner working on that simulation room thingy." He paused, then added, "But, it you wait until dinner, the other two will show. Eventually."

She slowed her walk to turn his way. "I might be persuaded …"

He grinned outright at that. "Well, I didn't go to debate camp or nothing, but…" He pulled her a bit tighter around the shoulders. "I know a spot in the hangar that your fellow victor and a certain blonde like to use. Someone parks a jet in view of the cameras. No one knows who."

"Amazing how that happens," she said with her head tipped to the side a bit as he broke into an honest laugh and the two of them headed off to find that camera dead spot.

* * *

 _January 27_

 _Tahiti Training Room_

* * *

Both Bruce and Wade were surprised to see that they had another early morning visitor to their gym workouts — and while this one was blonde, it definitely wasn't Cassie Lang.

Clint looked like he hadn't slept a wink the night before, and he simply tipped his head at the two residents of the training room for a moment in greeting before he went into stretches on the mat, otherwise largely ignoring them. The other two had already moved on to running across the track, so they didn't think much of it, though Wade had to mutter to Bruce about "circus moves" with how far Clint was able to stretch.

"I thought he was part of Two's fight clubs," Bruce said with a small frown.

"Yes, in _this_ universe," Wade said with a nod, and Bruce shook his head with a grin. When Wade got to talking about his 'multiverse' theory, it was hard not to get excited about it. The idea of several separate and distinct universes, each with their own set of rules, but still connected and in many ways similar, was absolutely fascinating, and completely in line with several versions of quantum theory.

Wade's claims that he knew about the other universes, though… were harder to swallow.

Still, Bruce had to smile to himself when Wade abandoned their run to slide down the railing to the main floor of the training room and grin widely at Clint, trying to do some of the stretches and making dramatic noises of pain that were probably far more exaggerated than necessary — even if it was clear Wade just couldn't get his body to move that way.

"Don't hurt yourself, Wade," Clint finally said after Wade tried to do a sitting split that just _looked_ painful.

Wade let out a little noise as he rearranged himself to something a little less taxing, then gestured to Clint. "Well? Aren't you gonna show me how it's done, circus boy?"

Clint turned Wade's way with a _look_ but didn't rise to the bait, finishing out his stretches and heading for the weights.

That got Wade to frown as he scrambled to his feet and followed Clint to the weights station, resting his chin on one of the machines as Clint got started without a word spoken. "Allllright," he said, the whole world coming from his center mass as he sighed it out. "Whatever this is—" He gestured at Clint. "—it's gotta stop now. There is _no_ reason for our favorite Hawk-guy to be this quiet!"

"Just thinking," Clint said out of the corner of his mouth.

In response, Wade settled into the most wide-eyed look he had ever given Clint. "Whatcha thinking about?" he asked, batting his eyelashes for the full effect. When Clint gave a sort of noncommittal shrug in response, though, Wade only seemed spurred further on. "Awww, come on. You can tell _me_ ," he said. "I'm your Tahiti twinsie!"

Clint raised an eyebrow Wade's way and pointedly went back to what he was doing, but Wade was undeterred.

Finally, after a solid twenty minutes of watching Wade bounce around Clint, listing all the different reasons he was safe to share a secret with and all the ways that he was going to make sure whoever had his second-favorite Hawkeye down in the dumps regretted putting him in that mood — Bruce stepped in.

"You know he's just going to keep asking," he said, as he situated himself on a weight bench closer to the mismatched pair.

Clint's shoulders slumped, and he rested his forehead against the bar that he was no longer pressing. Finally, with a sigh that moved all the way through him, he muttered, "It's fine. It's actually… well, it's a good thing."

"What's that?" Bruce asked.

"They're shipping Tasha — my old district partner — they're shipping her off to get her head fixed. That's good," Clint explained in an even tone that didn't match the expression he was wearing.

When Clint didn't give any further explanation than that, though, both Wade and Bruce glanced at each other, and Bruce found himself gently prodding: "But…"

"But… well, you guys've seen my Games, haven't you?" Clint pointed out.

Bruce nodded. After the victory tour, he and Tony had dredged up all of what they could find on not only the past Games but previous ones — both in front of the camera and behind it. They were starting to see a few disturbing patterns on both ends… But yes, the point was, he had seen the disastrous declaration of love that Clint had gone out on a limb attempting, and he'd seen the aftermath of it.

It was a secret to absolutely no one, inside Tahiti or out of it, that Clint had been in love with his district partner.

"Oh, don't you worry," Wade said, bringing Bruce out of his thoughts as Clint's former Career ally patted him heartily on the shoulder. "The Clintasha monster just won't stand idly by and let this separation _stand_."

Clint shrugged Wade's hand off. "Yeah, sure."

"Have you ever been separated before? I mean, this kind of distance?" Bruce asked. It was clear that Clint had been about to leave, but something was still bothering him. Better to get it out in the open, here and now.

Clint paused and then leaned back, his head tipped against the wall for a long moment. "No. Not… really. We trained at separate centers, but this is something totally different." He paused. "There's a real chance if she doesn't improve that I won't get to see her again. Even if she does improve… there's _still_ a real chance."

"And you don't know if you want to wait for her," Bruce surmised quietly.

"I think I do, and that's the problem," Clint said, banging his head against the wall once as he said it. He let out a long sigh of pure frustration before he launched into a very fast explanation: "What am I going to tell her when she gets here and I'm with Bobbi?"

It was easy to see the understanding click behind both Bruce and Wade's gazes when they met, and the two boys shared a brief nod before Wade all but vaulted into a sitting position by Clint. "There is _nothing wrong_ with pursuing the Hawkingbird goodness," he said in an entirely serious tone, eyes wide as he patted Clint's knee.

"Yeah, thanks, Wade, that's real helpful."

"He's not wrong," Bruce pointed out. "You said yourself you don't know if she's coming back, and it seems like you have a good relationship with Bobbi, right? I mean… she certainly seems more stable."

"Seems like," Clint had to admit, rubbing the back of his neck before he couldn't help but smile. "Usually, she's the one getting me out of a funk."

"See? Hawkingbird goodness," Wade said, gesturing to Clint.

"You can't feel guilty over someone and something you don't have any control over," Bruce added, turning his glasses over in his hands as he thought of it and wondering briefly how this had become his role with the other Tahiti kids. "Has she ever actually felt like you do?"

Clint shrugged, and his voice seemed to come from a long way off. "I don't know."

"Then let her heal on her own. The timing isn't right on this one if you're not both on the same page," Bruce said, stretching back onto the weight bench and picking up where he left off. "There's nothing wrong with finding something healthy for _you_."

Clint leaned his head back again and closed his eyes as he chuckled. "You sound like Charles, you know?"

Bruce smiled at that as he clicked the weights together over his head. "Thank you."

Clint laughed again and then got to his feet, moving to the mat for a few cool-down stretches. "Don't get the wrong idea," he said suddenly, his tone betraying how much the 'wrong idea' would have bothered him. "Bobbi's amazing. I think the world of her. And I love being with her."

"I think anyone would have a crisis when the girl they had once declared their love for was suddenly shipped off with no promise of return," Bruce said, finishing his reps and moving to the mats. "That's just human. If it was easy to give up the idea of being in love, it wasn't love at all." His eyes seemed to betray a like feeling. "Even if you move on, you still feel…"

Clint nodded at the silence, understanding _exactly_ what it was that Bruce was saying without saying it. He paused for a good long time before he finally added, "Good, because ... I really do like her. Bobbi, I mean."

"Two little lovebirds, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Wade sang out, which earned him a shove in the shoulder from Clint, though Clint looked decidedly less annoyed and more amused than anything else.

"C-H-I-R-P-I-N... G …," Wade sang once he'd gotten a little further from Clint, though he paused when the word didn't quite fit the cadence of the song. "Dangit."

Bruce grinned at him. "You could use an apostrophe…"

"But so hard to siiiiing apostrophe!"

Clint just laughed and shook his head. "Shut up, Wade," he said with a nearly grateful grin.


	41. The Winds Are Shifting

**Notes: *phew* This particular chapter is quite the roller coaster of emotions. We apologize in advance.**

* * *

 **Chapter 41: "The Winds Are Shifting"**

* * *

 _January 28_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

The quiet morning evaporated in an instant when Cassie and Wade burst into the rec room with matching, wide grins, both of them half out of breath and trying to beat each other to the punch telling the others what was going on when they did get their breath back.

"You're not gonna believe—" Cassie started to say.

"Gonna kiss that agent into next week—" Wade said at the same time.

Steve just looked between the two of them and raised an eyebrow as well as both hands. "Slow down, slow down," he suggested. "What's going on?"

The two of them broke into grins all over again, and some of the other kids in the rec room were starting to catch on to what was happening when they noticed that Wade and Cassie were holding hands — even though Essex was definitely around the corner and the cameras weren't blocked.

"That stupid non-fraternization rule," Cassie started.

"It's totally canned!" Wade finished for her with a wide grin, then stopped, paused, and looked over at Cassie. "Well… not _totally_ ," he qualified, and his gaze moved from Cassie to Clint, who gave him a 'what is that look for' kind of stare. "No funny stuff behind closed doors."

"And nothing super serious," Cassie chimed in. "You know. No running off and getting married or something."

"We're… we're still _kids_ ," Kate said, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe that was even a necessary stipulation.

"Thank Hank and Jan," Cassie said. "They didn't exactly wait."

"Impatient little ants," Wade agreed, the wide grin still painted all over his face as he was swinging Cassie's hand with his.

"But… this means we can _date_ , right?" Kate said. "Just — just making sure I'm hearing this right and it's not some kind of joke."

"Not a joke," Cassie promised.

"Would we do that to you?" Wade added, looking downright _hurt_ that she would suggest such a thing.

"Maybe, I dunno," Kate said with a little shrug.

"No way — not on something this awesome," Cassie promised her sincerely, and that just got pretty much everyone in the rec room grinning wide — those with people they were interested in and those who were simply excited to see their friends not have to sneak around.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Tony asked, breaking through the grinning haze as he seized Pepper around the waist and kissed her long and hard — with Kate and Kurt not far behind and surprising those that didn't know they'd been meeting up in the vents in secret this whole time with just how long their kiss went.

Clint and Carol glanced at each other, shared smirks, and took off from the rec room in search of their favorite trainers, which had everyone in the room sharing smirks.

"I think they're excited," Cassie said with a little giggle.

"Sure they are, SweetCassielang. It' no fun to pretend you don't like someone," Wade pointed out before he leaned down to reach her so he could kiss her cheek, and she positively _beamed_ at him.

Of course, the announcement of the new rule wasn't _all_ kisses and snuggles, as most of the kids who weren't involved with someone found some excuse or another to leave the rec room to their overly affectionate friends. And when Luke passed by Cassie and Wade on his way out, he was sure to clap his hand on Wade's shoulder and give him a look it was impossible to misunderstand before he slipped out the door.

"Oh, don't mind him. He just thinks he needs to take care of me because I'm the youngest in the group," Cassie told Wade at a little whisper, then paused. "Well, second-youngest with Ororo here."

"Got it — big brother Luke," he said with a little smile and nod, and she rolled her eyes.

"He _thinks_ so," she said, which just had Wade laughing again.

"That just means he adopted you," Wade said. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, but I'm not _twelve_ anymore. I can take care of myself," she argued.

"But you are still tiny," he said as he booped her nose. "And adorable."

She had to grin at that. "Yes. Yes, I am," she agreed.

* * *

 _January 31_

 _District Seven_

* * *

When Skye woke up, it was because she realized suddenly that she was very cold, and she knew she must have kicked her blankets off in the middle of the night, though when she reached for them, she noticed that the laptop she'd left on during the night so it could finish the program she'd been writing until the late hours of the morning ... was not on.

"Oh _crap_ ," she said, rushing over to the screen, but it was dead. There was nothing she could do about it — the battery was dead, and even though it was plugged in, she saw now that there was very obviously no power in the house.

"What…?" She ran to the window and saw only a sheet of white as the blizzard that had started during the afternoon the day before was way worse now, and it didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon.

The storm must have knocked out the power, she reasoned — but surely someplace like this would have, maybe, a backup generator or something. These were _victors_ , so they'd get taken care of, right? She wasn't going to freeze to death — _right_?

It was still pitch black, and she was half stumbling over herself by the time she made it to her door, tripping over the shirt and pants that she'd left on the floor when she changed into her pajamas and wishing she'd, well, put them on a _chair_ at least.

The power was out in the rest of the house too, confirming that she hadn't tripped a breaker. The storm was still blocking the windows, so that she wasn't sure she even knew what _time_ it was, since her clock was dead too, but it must still have been early, because she didn't see Logan, so she knew where he had to be and ...

"Okay, I'm just here to ask you if we're gonna die out here," she said, to the closed door, as she stood outside of Logan's room before she pushed it open and immediately blushed because he was, for some reason, even in the middle of this blizzard, shirtless. Because of course he was.

"Um ... Logan?" she reached out and gently shook his arm, still standing a bit back from the bed because…. Well. She really should. She really, really should. She shouldn't have come into his room, but this was an emergency, and she was _not_ going to breach his privacy any more than that. "Logan, the storm knocked out the _power_."

"Is the fire still burning?" he asked sleepily without moving.

"Yeah, I think so," she said, though she hadn't actually thought to check. But it usually was — he was good about the upkeep. "But there's no _power_!"

"That happens sometimes," he said, finally stretching out to look at her with one eye opened.

"Don't we have, you know, backups or something? Fury's supposed to come get me tomorrow and—"

"For electricity? No backups for that. If you're cold, you could just go back to bed. Unless you're scared of the dark."

"No, I'm worried about _freezing_ ," Skye returned. "When is the power coming back?"

"I don't know." He had to chuckle a little. "You can snuggle up here if you're that worried."

But that only had her turning bright red. "No. That's okay. That's… no, that's okay," she said, shaking her head. "I can just find some blankets..."

"I'll stoke the fire," he said with a crooked smirk. "Relax. I'm just picking on you."

"That's mean," she said, though she relaxed substantially on hearing it. "We could freeze to death stuck in here, and you're _picking on me_."

"We're not going to freeze to death. I've got plenty of wood to burn, plenty of blankets, and if all else fails ... yeah. We can huddle up." He sat up and looked up at her with a smirk. "It's not a big deal."

She leaned back a bit as he got to his feet, and she had to shake her head. "How are you not freaking out about this?" she asked. "Even the lower levels of the Capitol had backup heating in the winter! You're from the _woods_. You've got to have _something_."

"It's called fire, and if you don't take care of your fire, you can freeze here real quick," he said. "But really — this is about as good as you can get in Seven. Before I got caught up in all this crap, I lived in a tent most of the year."

She goggled at him for a moment before she blurted out, "That's not really making me feel better!"

He let out a sigh as he headed for the door. "My _point_ is that I know how to keep warm. Though …" He stood still for a moment with a little frown. "Can't hear the storm, so it's either over, or we're snowed in."

"We can't be snowed in," she said, her eyes wide. "That's just — that's just wrong."

"Well, let's do the quick check," he said as he walked back across the room and opened the window to reveal solid, packed snow outside the second story window. "Yeah, that can't be the trouble at _all_."

"Okay. New question," she said, her eyes still wide. "Are we gonna starve?"

"No. We're not gonna starve. I have plenty of food in the pantry and freezer down stairs. We're good for at least a month," he replied but quickly added. "It won't take that long for this to blow over, though. So please… relax."

She finally fell back into a chair near the nightstand beside his bed before she glanced at him. "Waitaminnut. What about your small army?"

"I'm sure they put the kids on lockdown for the duration of the storm," he said with a wave. "They'll probably be your first line warning that the world gets back to turning. They'll be out as soon as the roads are cleared."

She let out a breath of relief and nodded. "Okay. That's good. Okay," she said to herself. "So… how long are we gonna be just… sitting here?"

"Couple days if you're lucky," he said. "They usually don't take longer than a week if it's bad. And unless I climb up on the roof, I can't give you a better estimate. Don't know if it's still snowing or not."

She scrubbed a hand over her face. "I don't have power to my laptop," she told him. "So I guess no lessons while we're stuck."

"Then we'll have to work on your poker face."

She smirked a bit. "Think we can even see a deck of cards in this?" she teased, gesturing at the dark room.

"If we go by the fire, I don't see why not. There are candles too," he said before he slipped out of the room, still shirtless and headed toward the living room. "Leave your door open if you want your room warm. Or you can hang out in the living room. It's still plenty warm down there."

"O-kay," Skye bit her lip, thinking of the pants and underwear and various clothing all over the floor. "Let me just… clean up first. I'll meet you downstairs." With that, she took off running, determined to get to her room before he could see _why_ she needed to do the fifty-second pickup race.

* * *

 _February 3_

 _Triskellion Detention Center_

* * *

Coulson had just sent in the last of his notes to Fury on his final recommendations for Reaping candidates. It had taken him longer than usual to get that finalized, not because it was particularly harder than any other year — it was always difficult — but because things had come up this tour that needed his more immediate attention. Like Ward - and the whole mess going on in the Tahiti Program down below with Xavier and Essex vying to kick each other out.

He had another round of complaints from Essex that he wasn't really interested in reading. It was mostly more of the same — that Charles was undermining his authority and that he couldn't be expected to make any headway with any of the children in his care if they didn't trust him. Which Coulson thought was laughable at best, but his 'official' reply was more to the tune of "We're moving you into a more medical capacity to make full use of your talents" and a very unamused expression that didn't translate over the screen.

Besides, Coulson and Fury had wanted Essex out of there since year two of the program, and this was a perfect excuse. Let him work on the Tahiti process itself, speed along the revival — and patch up any injured operatives. That was what they'd hired him to do in the first place, and the psychiatry stint had really only been because Ms. Lang hadn't adjusted as well as Jan and Hank had to being brought back to life. They hadn't meant to let him stay on in that job in anything like a permanent basis, but somehow, while the rest of SHIELD was more occupied with the revolution planning and the Games themselves, Essex had made himself an even bigger part of the program than he was supposed to be.

Coulson scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked over his reply one last time before sending it on. He'd like to have a word with Charles later about this whole thing — sometime when he wasn't desperately trying to catch up on everything that hadn't gotten done this month in preparation for the Games.

It would be a moot point in a few weeks, anyway, since Essex usually worked on the mutts for the three months or so leading up to the Games, but as Charles was constantly reminding him, a lot could happen in a few days, much less a few weeks.

And the evidence was there already — the kids had somehow decided Coulson and Charles were to blame for the decision to reverse the non-fraternization rule, and Kate had even hugged Coulson during a briefing the other day. So clearly Charles' methods were working to build trust — Essex was just upset at losing any power.

Coulson was considering when he would next schedule a longer visit to Tahiti than a quick briefing when he was broken out of his thoughts by a blaring alarm, and he got to his feet in an instant, pulling open the drawer at his desk where he kept his sidearm. He then reached for a button at the corner of his desk for the comms. "May?" he asked. "Where's the fire?"

"No May here, sorry," a sing-song voice came in reply. "Try again elsewhere."

"Who is this?" he demanded, but of course, there was no answer there, not that he expected one. Though sometimes it was nice to get a "we're so full of ourselves we're going to tell you" moment.

When he got outside of his office, it was apparent that there was nothing but chaos everywhere. Whoever had infiltrated the Triskellion was doing a good job of simply sowing discord around the place. Coulson frowned and quickly rushed to lock down the entrances to the TAHITI levels — just in case — before he went for the next most obvious target.

The only real prisoner they had there, and the biggest traitor Coulson had been forced to deal with. Grant Ward.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard the first sign of real trouble as gunfire broke out around the corner, and he diverted that way with a frown. There weren't any high value targets down that hall, just the science wing — though considering some of Fitzsimmons latest projects, he didn't want whoever this was getting in there either.

He skidded to a stop as he pulled up just short of a shot that hit the corner of the wall rather than him and pressed himself back against the corner. Any attempt to peek around the wall was met with another round of gunfire, and Coulson was considering his options when he heard the sound of shattering glass — that had to be the glass door to the science wing.

Immediately after the glass broke, there was a whole lot of shouting, mostly whoever these thugs were calling out orders to surrender, though Coulson could hear Fitz and Simmons both — also shouting, but a little more wordlessly. And there were some explosions that didn't sound entirely normal, though again, Coulson couldn't peer around the corner to see what, exactly, his team was getting up to. It was a little satisfying, though, to hear one of the thugs shouting and screaming as one of his team tagged him with something. That science wing could be downright dangerous to the wrong people.

But the scuffle didn't last long, and Coulson knew it was over when it went quiet on the other side of the hall — or mostly quiet, anyway — before one of the bad guys called out, "Surrender or we kill them both."

Coulson paused for a second before he called back, "If I do, are you just going to kill us anyway? Because then I won't do that."

"Not until I get my information anyhow," someone else called back, and Coulson's frown deepened when he recognized Ward. "But if you don't, you're dead for sure."

Coulson paused on hearing Ward's voice, but he wasn't going to let his team hang, either. So, he poked his head out from around the corner, holding his hands where Ward could see them. "This is some party just for you, Ward," he said casually, though his gaze was on Fitzsimmons, who were each being held by guys who looked too big to be allowed and who looked like they'd like nothing more than to just be rid of the science geeks in their grasps and move on. They were wearing green on their uniforms and a snake-like design that Coulson recognized from the Civil War.

Hydra.

"Yeah, it really kind of is," Ward agreed with a cocky smirk. "So why don't you drop the gun and come out nice and easy?"

Coulson kept his gaze not on Ward but on his _actual_ team as he very carefully bent down to put the gun on the ground. "I have to admit — I thought Hydra was defunct," he said as he straightened up, his hands up.

"Shows you how out of date your intel is, Coulson," Ward said. "Let's make this quick. I have places to be. Where is Skye?"

"Not here, clearly," Coulson said with a frown.

Ward laughed just a bit at that. "Yeah, because if she was, we'd have found her already, and the three of you would be dead. Don't make this harder than it already is. Just tell me where she is."

"You know I'm not going to do that, so why don't you just take your little posse and go back to your cell — and maybe May won't hold it against you if you're lucky," Coulson countered without changing his expression in the slightest.

"May isn't really a concern right now," Ward replied before he made a small motion that had two more massive creeps grabbing a hold of Coulson, taking an arm apiece. Ward led the way to one of SHIELD's interrogation rooms, leaving the door open as Fitz and Simmons were tied up and left to hear the first awful _crack_.


	42. Snowed In

**Notes: Well, we couldn't let the winter wonderland go on forever, and besides, Skye needs a reunion with her team, so… *sigh* I *guess* we'll send 'em back…**

* * *

 **Chapter 42: "Snowed In"**

* * *

 _February 4_

 _District Seven_

* * *

The entire district had been snowed in for a few days, and while Skye hadn't enjoyed the first little while — adjusting to no laptop, no phone service, nothing — she was actually having a blast by a day or so into it. The fire was warm, there were plenty of books to read, she was enjoying the company, and she was getting better at poker, too.

They'd just finished dinner when she set the deck of cards down in front of Logan and grinned as he started to shuffle automatically.

"What'd you do? Try to stack it? Palm an ace?" he asked.

"Nope." She grinned even wider. "But I think — I _think_ — I've got a bluff that'll work this time. If I just keep throwing you off by making you think I cheated," she teased.

"Keep? You're going to have to get me once before you can _keep_ getting me."

"Semantics," she said, waving her hand as she sat down in front of the fire with him. She glanced at the window for a second and sighed. "I think it's actually… not the apocalypse out there anymore."

"I tried to tell you it's just a snowstorm," he said reasonably before he started to deal. "Five card draw — nothing wild."

She grinned and settled back with a blanket over her lap and her feet tucked underneath her. It was toasty warm in the big log house — but even with the fire roaring and the warmth radiating off the stovepipe, it still felt as if there was a draft coming from the front door. "We'll actually have to do things when the power comes back, and I'm not gonna lie, that sounds like no fun anymore," she said as she rearranged her cards.

"Well," he said as he arranged his hand. "If we bump into each other in the Capitol, maybe we can put some stakes to a game instead of just working on teaching you to lie."

"Maybe I'll introduce you to the rest of my team. I want to see you and Agent May face off. That would be amazing."

He smirked a bit and shook his head before he slid down to a more reclined position on his side. "That might not be out of the question. Fury's supposed to be working with me, so as long as he doesn't tuck me away somewhere or send me all over the damn Capitol, I might just be around."

"Well, I guess it depends on how busy I am too," she admitted. "I do have a job that's not teaching lumberjacks, you know."

"You're lucky it wasn't one of the guys on my crew you had to work with. Some of 'em are lucky to spell their names right."

She smirked and put two cards face down. "I'll take two please," she said before she added, "I'm not gonna lie, I thought you were going to be one of those hopeless cases."

"I am," he replied before he gave her the cards. "Never could stand going to school after I got kicked outta the house."

"You're really not. You could spell your name and everything," she teased, arranging her hand with a smirk.

"Oh, well that's debatable," he argued. "I don't even like my name. Had to get a different one."

"Easier to spell too," she pointed out. "Just the one word."

"Five letters. A low bar even around here. Okay — show your hand, troubles." He laid down a small straight and waited for her.

"Pair of queens," she said with an easy shrug, though it was clear she'd been hoping for a flush, as most of her hand (except the queen) was spades.

"Your deal," he said, pushing the deck her way.

She started to shuffle and then dealt out five cards apiece, smiling as she had the better part of a full house — one card short — when she looked at it, though she was watching him more than anything else.

He looked his cards over for a moment and discarded two, though when he got the new cards ... it was hard to tell if it was good or bad as he waited for her to show her hand.

She hadn't gotten the full house, but she did have two pair, and she laid them out for him to see before she said, "Alright, your turn."

"Nothin'," Logan replied as he laid out the hand.

Skye glanced at his cards and saw that this time he'd drawn an ace — but he hadn't said a word or reacted at all to what she thought was a very realistic-looking drawing of a sad snowman on the card. So she just had to push him a bit. "Well, you had ace high," she said with a smirk.

"I did," he said with a slow nod. "And the drawing might pass for frameable too."

At that, she just had to laugh and shake her head. "Seriously — not one comment? I thought you'd at least throw it at me."

"While we're playing? No way," he said. "After the hand's laid out, sure. Maybe."

"That's one good poker face," she said, still grinning.

"Another hand?" he asked, already gathering them up. "Or you wanna do something else?"

"Up to you. There's a reindeer on the ace of hearts if you want to play until we find that one too," she said with a little laugh.

"One more then to hunt for the reindeer," he said as he dealt. "It's a lot more boring with nothing to ante or no drinking. Or both."

"Well I am _not_ playing any kind of poker where I have to even think about taking my blanket off. But I won't tell anyone if we break out the whiskey."

"Dirty minded," he said, shaking his head.

"And cold," she said, pulling the blanket around her shoulders to block the chill at her back, and soundly proving her point.

He abandoned the deck for a moment to throw a couple more logs in the fire. "No reason to be cold, and the whiskey won't help with that. It'll just make you _think_ you're warmer than you are until you're strippin' halfway and goin' hypothermic."

She blinked at him in surprise, but when he seemed to be entirely serious, she flushed and turned away and eyed the stack of logs. "Glad you came prepared. Though I guess ... tree country. Logging district."

"You'd be surprised how many people here have to ration out their wood," he said flatly.

"In _this_ weather?" She looked a bit taken aback. "But there's trees everywhere."

"Yeah," he replied, nodding slowly. "They have rules to keep people from using more than they're allowed."

"Screw the rules," Skye muttered as she looked at her hand. "That's what I always say."

"That's kinda how I got in trouble," he said as he arranged his cards again. "Most of the time."

"Then I guess I'm the worst 'stop getting in trouble' tutor ever, because that sounds _fine_ to me."

"I already promised Fury I'd toe the line. Heather will think you're a saint."

"She thinks I'm something alright," Skye muttered before she traded in one card.

He shrugged one shoulder up. "She likes you," he said in a low rumble. "She's just another one that likes to stir up trouble."

"I'm starting to think there's something in the water out here," she couldn't help but tease.

"Nah, just long winters with nothin' to do but think of ways to keep warm."

She paused for just a minute and held her cards close to her chest. "What did you get in trouble for anyhow?"

"In the Capitol?" He drew in a deep breath and tipped his head a bit to the side. "Stepped on someone's toes that held a lot of sway with the royals. I really shouldn't tell you details. Might screw up your positive viewpoint on some of the victors," he said before he looked up at her to meet her gaze. "But if you don't know about all the dealings with that crowd…. Well. You're bright enough to figure it out if you think on it long enough, I'm sure."

"It'd be easier if I had a staring point," she said with a teasing little grin, obviously fishing.

He peeked up at her again from his cards and was clearly thinking it over for a long moment. He didn't see what harm would come from giving her a name with no context. "Selene Gallio," he replied. "Though now I'm curious on what you can find on her, all things considered."

She nodded. "I guess I'll have to let you know once I get power to my laptop again. So — whatcha got?"

"A pair, and you got a crap dealer."

"Can't be true, because I got four of a kind," she said with a wide grin.

He propped himself up a little higher with an expression that clearly read that he didn't believe her, but when she laid it down, sure enough, she had four nines. "I'll be damned. Kinda weird to cheat with nines."

"What makes you think I cheated?" she asked, jutting her chin out a bit.

"You're trying to learn how to lie. What better way to do it than to dive into the dark, dirty world of cheating at cards?"

" _I_ think you're just a sore loser," she shot back.

"Not when there's nothing to lose," he said with a crooked grin.

"Then we need an ante…" Skye looked around. "Loser takes a drink," she offered at last.

"You tryin' to get me drunk?"

" _No_ ," she said quickly. "I mean, yes, but not _that way_." She shook her head and held both hands up.

"How many ways are there?" he asked with one eyebrow raised.

"The nice, social way and the creepy, take-advantage way," she said. "I'm the first kind, I'll have you know," she added insistently.

"Well … rarely has anyone ever tried to get me drunk for good, clean fun. It's always an attempt to take advantage one way or another. Thought it was the same in the Capitol."

"Only in the circles you travel in. Some of us in the Capitol actually work for a living, believe it or not," she said, shaking her head.

"Too bad," he said under his breath before glancing up at her as he gathered up the cards. "Alright — go pick your poison. There's a few different kinds to choose from over there." He tipped his chin toward the liquor cabinet and started to shuffle.

She came back with a bottle and set it down between them before she snatched up her blanket again and continued to wear it even though the fire was nice and warm. She prefered being bundled up to _freezing_.

"So," she said as she poured out two glasses. "I have a weird question for you. And you can totally tell me if it's just me being from the Capitol or overthinking or whatever — I promise I won't get mad."

"You can ask me whatever you want," he said distractedly. "Don't even need to get me drunk for it."

She gave him a quick look, wondering if that was entirely true, before she just nodded. "I was thinking about those kids? And some of them are Reaping age. And just… how do you… If it was me, I wouldn't want to get close. In case — you know…"

He drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment before he answered as diplomatically as he could. "Those kids don't have families to give a damn about if they live or die. Hazard of living where we do. Doesn't mean that if they get drawn they should live and _die_ with no one giving a damn." He looked up at her for just a moment. "I'm not the only one that tries, either."

"Yeah, I know. Heather and Mac and everyone," she agreed.

"There's a reason the Sentinels look the other way over me bringing them meat," he said. "It's how I was raised."

"I'm glad you do," she admitted. "I guess I just don't understand how it doesn't — I don't know. Scare you. Those kids are _adorable_ , and the Games are…." She trailed off, suddenly not trusting herself to speak.

"The system sucks. It needs to change," he said firmly.

"Thus the training with Fury, I know, I know, but it hasn't changed yet is all I'm saying, and I just don't ... " She bit her lip again, knowing she was skirting around dangerous lines.

"Can't wait for it to change to start giving a damn." He still sounded pretty relaxed about it though.

"I guess it's just easier when you don't _know_ them. That's all," she said before she simply seized the glass she'd poured and went ahead and had a drink.

"Take it easy on that stuff — I'm told it's bad for you."

She pulled a horrible face as she put it back, the liquor burning its way all the way down and making the heat rise in her cheeks much quicker. "Yeah, I've heard that."

"So is this what we're doing tonight? You just wanna get wasted?"

"Well, maybe if you're drunk I can bluff you," she teased lightly.

"I don't have enough liquor for that to happen," he shot back as he tipped his glass up and drained it before setting it down again with no reaction.

"We'll see," she countered, getting back most of her smile as she followed his lead.

The two of them joked around and split their bottle over the next couple hours. By the time they were nearly through the bottle, both of them were grinning widely and using each other as a means of staying propped up.

"You were right," she told him with a little laugh. "This doesn't help with the chill."

"It's awful being wrong," he said. "You'll have to tell me what that's like."

She just gave him a look. "Shut up; I wasn't wrong about anything," she said, rearranging her blanket around her shoulders before she paused, looked down at the blanket, and then offered him a corner with one hand.

"Sure that won't put you too close?" he teased.

"You have all your clothes on," she countered. "I'm _fine_."

He just shrugged and rearranged himself to get close enough to share the blanket, putting his arm around her in the process. "Easier to pass the bottle anyhow."

"Is that your way of saying I'm right?" she couldn't help teasing.

"No, that's another way I'm saying I wasn't wrong."

"Nope. That's just not true," she said with a bright smile as she stole the bottle back from him.

The two of them sat there, passing the bottle back and forth in front of the fire for a while, though subject matter to discuss seemed to dry up for a while, and she wasn't expecting him to put his arm around her like that. Not that she was going to complain.

There was a little scraping sound at the door, but both of them just looked in that direction rather than get up, fully expecting the army that Elsie commanded to tumble in at any moment, but instead …

"Did you two even touch the damn computers?" Fury asked before he shut the door behind him.

At the sound of the director's voice, Skye straightened up suddenly, turned bright red, and half hid under their blanket with a whispered, "I'm gonna get executed," that was more a squeak than anything else as Logan chuckled at her.

"You are not," Logan murmured back quietly before he turned to Fury and raised the bottle his way. "You look cold. Ya want a snort?"

Fury glared at him for a moment before he took a few steps forward and snatched the bottle up to throw it back for a few shots' worth. He dropped onto the couch across from them with a little sigh. "What did you manage to cover? And so help me — if all you can do is email after all this time …."

"She didn't show me anything about that," Logan said straight-faced. "Should I know how to email?"

She hit him in the arm with her open palm and gave him a very serious glare before she turned to Fury. "No, no — we covered everything in, like, the first week. He's a fast learner — even showed him few extra back doors and backups for the security in case the usual stuff doesn't work," she said, insistent and wide-eyed.

Fury just watched her as he took another drink. "And for the last few days?"

"Just keepin' warm," Logan said.

" _By the fire_ ," Skye cut in quickly. "Sitting by the fire. With cards. Five card draw. And I'm just… I'm going to stop talking." She muttered that last bit and half hid in the blanket again, though Logan still didn't make a move to get up or shift position.

"If it makes you feel any better, I know he's trying to pick," Fury said to Skye as he looked at what was left in the bottle.

"Oh good, because I swear. I _swear_. It's totally not…"

"Come on — you make it so easy," Logan laughed.

She leaned in and whispered very insistently, "But that…. That is my boss's boss's boss."

Logan frowned at her for a moment and just nodded his head, ready to say something snarky — before Fury told them to pack up to go. When the two of them separated, Logan made sure to tell Fury it wouldn't take too long, though as he walked by, he was _also_ sure to pull a cigar out of Fury's front pocket with a muttered 'thanks'.

To Skye's surprise, all Fury did was watch him go by, shake his head at Logan's antics, and tip the bottle back again. "Four — or was it five? — days with no power, and I find you drunk out here with my newest troublemaker. What did _he_ teach _you_ — or was the extent of it just how to drink?"

"Well, I almost have the poker hands memorized," she said with an attempt at a brilliant smile.

"Please don't tell me you were playing for clothes."

" _NO._ No we were not," she insisted. "That was _my_ rule about the no ante like that, nuh-uh, thank you _very_ much."

"But he suggested it?" Fury asked, one eyebrow raised. When she silently shook her head' 'no' and started to stammer, Fury smirked at her and had to chuckle. "He's right, you know. You're too easy to mess with."

"I know," she sighed out. "If it makes you feel any better, that's why he was teaching me poker? Said it would help me to have a better game face."

He looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. "Not a bad idea. Might have to adopt that once we get back to the Capitol."

"Yes. Okay. So — I'm just… I'm gonna go pack up," Skye said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder before she all but scrambled for the stairs, not sure what to do with Fury in a picking mood. That was weird.

When she was ready, the two of them were waiting for her downstairs, quietly talking as Logan grabbed a few books off the shelf to shove into his duffel bag.

"You didn't leave anything behind, did you?" Fury said with a little look.

"Nope." She shook her head, though she had to half wonder now if she'd left like a sock or something and if that would get her in trouble.

"Good," he replied. "I'm not sure if or when you might be back in Seven."

"Well, I have my laptop and my best jacket, so I'm good," she promised.

The flight out of Seven was fairly quiet, and thankfully not too long, since Skye was still half convinced that Fury would decide she was in real trouble for getting drunk with her student — especially since they were both still buzzed when they landed back in the Capitol. But Fury didn't approach the subject, and finally, they deplaned in the hangar in the Triskellion.

"See ya around, teach," Logan muttered as he and Fury headed down one hall, leaving Skye to find her way back to Coulson's team with whiskey still on her breath.

She waved after Logan, belatedly, before she headed down the opposite direction, dragging her suitcase along with her as she was a bit surprised she hadn't been mobbed by her team yet. Unless they were out doing something… she _was_ late, after all.

She was nearly back to her room, in fact, before she almost ran headfirst into Simmons as the scientist came barreling around the corner and simply wrapped Skye up in a huge hug.

"Where have you _been?_ " Simmons asked almost breathlessly.

"Oh, um, Fury sent me somewhere," Skye said as she quickly hugged her friend back. "Didn't Coulson tell you guys?"

"He said you'd be back at the beginning of the month!"

"Oh that." Skye blew out a breath. "I got stuck. Bad weather. But I'm here now!"

"Are you going to tell me where you were, or am I going to need to dig around into the weather reports and figure it out myself?"

Skye just grinned at that. "I don't know — see, now I think that would be good for you. A little espionage, breaking the rules…"

"Nothing illegal about inquiring about the weather," she said with a little _look._

"She can be taught!" Skye teased as she just hugged her friend again. "But I was in Seven. I think that's okay to tell you? And there was a freak snowstorm that blew out all the power, so — five days of firelight."

"What in God's name is way out there?" she asked, pulling a little face. "And _why_ do you smell like alcohol?"

But Skye just leaned in with a sideways grin, ignoring the second question entirely. "A whole lot of buff guys, Jemma. Very nice eye candy."

"Isn't it hard to take in all that eye candy when they're all wrapped up in layers against a snowstorm?" she challenged. "Or were you unwrapping them and plying them with whiskey?"

"No, no. They stayed wrapped, and it's not hard to coax them into drinking a little," Skye said, holding up both hands in a gesture of surrender. "It was freezing cold, and they stayed wrapped. I swear."

Simmons shook her head at Skye and then wrapped her up in another hug. "At any rate, it's actually a good thing you were gone when you were. Had you been back on schedule …" She looked nervous as she let the comment fall.

Skye frowned at the change in her friend's expression. "What? Did something happen?"

"Hydra happened," she said in a hushed tone. "They came and broke Ward out — and he wanted to take you with him."

"He _what_?" Skye just gaped at Simmons openly.

"You should go see Coulson. He'll explain all of it, and I know he's been concerned about you." Jemma shook her head. "Honestly. Out of contact for _days._ Only to come home inebriated."

"It's not _that_ bad, Simmons. Where is our fearless leader anyway?" Skye asked, trying to change the subject. "I thought he'd be at the hangar — or is he in his office? I'll stop in and apologize for the blackout that wasn't my fault, I swear."

"No, Skye — he's not in his office," she said, looking apologetic. "He's in medical."

"Is he okay?" Skye asked, instantly switching to concern, but she didn't wait for the response as she took off down the hall.

When she arrived in medical, she was surprised to see that Coulson looked like he was in pretty bad shape — or had been at least — and she just pushed past the medics to plop down beside him, wide-eyed. "What _happened_?"

He looked like he relaxed quite a bit on seeing her and even managed a tiny smirk. "Ward happened. I'm glad you're back — you're late." He frowned at her after a moment. "Have you been drinking?"

"That's… really not important right now," Skye said, waving her hand. "Simmons told me you were here, but she didn't say — seriously, Coulson. What happened?"

"He wanted information. My memory's so bad these days, though." He tried for a little smirk, but it really didn't come across as he'd intended.

She shook her head at him as she looked him over a little closer. "Just ... did you get him? Or did May get him? Tell me May got him so I can kick his butt for doing this."

"May was drugged before she could participate in the party," Coulson said. "And he got away."

Skye looked wide-eyed at that. "I'm sorry, Coulson," she said quickly. "That's—" She glanced at a particularly purple spot just under his eye. "Are you okay?"

"It's one of the hazards of the job," he said with a little shrug. "Did you get done what you set out to do?"

"Yeah, I did," she promised. "And — and when you're up to it, I wanted to amend some of my notes from the tour, if that's okay. But after you feel better, alright?"

He frowned at that. "Oh? What made you change your mind? You didn't tell him anything, did you?"

"No, no," she promised quickly. "No, I just ... you know…. Being in Seven that whole time and actually getting to meet some of the kids from there…"

"How did you meet some of the kids?"

"It's not like I went looking for them, I promise," she said, holding up both hands. "They're… friends of a friend of his," she tried to explain.

He gave her a knowing look. "Friends of your friend from the train?" He didn't look like he was buying it in the least.

"Maybe," she said, looking a bit pink. "But that's not the point," she added quickly. "The point is I did a little more research while I was out."

"How did you handle being a live-in?" he teased.

"I was professional," she defended herself, sitting up a little straighter.

"Of course you were. I can tell by the fumes wafting off of you," he said with a nod, though the smirk hadn't disappeared. "If you want to grab the files, we can talk now — or if you tell the doctor to get a move on, I'd be happy to sneak out."

"One jailbreak coming up," she promised, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before she rushed off to go find a doctor and do just that.

* * *

 _February 8th_

 _Fury's Private Training Room_

* * *

Fury had mentioned to Coulson that he'd have Logan in training as soon as he'd returned to the Capitol, and he knew that the only place secure enough for Fury to have the young man working with someone that Fury thought was good enough would be Fury's very own hidden training facility.

But when Coulson stepped into the training room to see how it was going, it looked a lot less like training and a lot more like the young man was simply getting the sense beaten out of him.

Ogun was a very temperamental trainer, and one that Fury had never been able to get on retainer. He'd tried for years, of course, but none of the people he wanted trained met the criteria that Ogun demanded, and as Coulson watched the old master wailing on the young man, he had to wonder if this pairing was going to last long.

Logan was putting up a fair enough defense against the strikes, but he hadn't yet learned to block everything, and it seemed that Ogun's method of teaching him was to simply keep attacking until he figured it out. Coulson was just about to step in and stop it when Ogun backed off and started half-shouting at the young man in very angry-sounding Japanese.

Logan of course, refused to bow his head properly — which just got the old man angry all over again, though when he came at Logan the second time, he stopped in his tracks when Logan replied in Japanese as well. A short discussion between the two of them followed, and for a moment, Ogun looked almost pleased before he nodded once, stepped back — and simply attacked him again.

Coulson took a cautious step back, watching the interaction with guarded interest. He had been aware that Logan was taking an interest in reading, teaching himself, trying to pass the time — and he knew there were books of Japanese in Logan's house from their surveillance there. But to see him fluent in it… He just had to shake his head. Logan didn't do anything halfway, clearly.

He watched the attack and the beating disguised as training continue on for another little while until the 'training' was over, though he slipped out of the room before the room had quite cleared.

He had a frown on his face as he made his way through the halls, clearly deep in thought as he chewed over what he'd just seen. He was sure he didn't like it — didn't like that this young man who had already been torn down mentally and emotionally was now being torn down physically. He was well aware of Ogun's reputation for turning out brilliant fighters, but that was beside the point when Logan wasn't in the best of places to start out with.

With a sigh, Coulson redirected his steps, away from his own office and toward Charles Xavier's. This was over his head; he wasn't equipped to deal with this kind of situation. The best way he could think to describe it was that Logan was being _broken_ in every way possible. Xavier would know how best to deal with this.

But more than that, Coulson wanted his advice on how to stop it if it got much worse. He'd sworn an oath that he would protect the innocent, and that was exactly what he intended to do here, too.


	43. Valentine's Day

**Notes: Love is in the air! It's Valentine's Day in Marvel, and with as many amazing couples as we have, we all know that's gonna be fun ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 43: Valentine's Day**

* * *

 _February 14_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

That morning, the kids in the Tahiti program had been sure to deliver a couple Valentines from the entirety of the program — and tape them to the doors of their respective recipients.

The first was addressed to Charles — a cute little classic Valentine with carefully cut lace trimming that said 'Be Ours' and was signed by all of the kids. The second, though, was all black and had a cape that Cassie had made out of some cloth from a ruined mission suit and was addressed to 'Agent Van Helsing'. It was also signed by all the kids, and the resident Hawks had set up little cameras in the vents to capture the exact moment their favorite psychologist and their favorite agent found their door decorations — earning an ill-hidden smirk from Charles that turned into a fond smile, to their utter delight.

Mysteriously, Essex's door had a crucifix and a bulb of garlic dangling from the doorknob, and no one could find the footage of who had put it there, though all of them thought it was positively hilarious, and several of the boys were muttering 'blah, blah-blah' whenever Essex poked his head out of the office.

Wade had bribed the kitchen, with Ororo's help, to make heart-shaped pancakes for breakfast for the entire TAHITI crew, and when Cassie got to the cafeteria with Kate, Wade swept in and picked her up to carry her to her seat.

"A little early to sweep a girl off her feet, don't you think?" she teased him.

"Are you kidding me? I'm behind schedule," Wade said. "I should have tried this months ago."

"Dracula would've been mad," Kate pointed out as she took a seat beside Kurt and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Well if he wants to get lippy, I've got a wooden stake to cram in his Valentine," Wade muttered.

"He's not allowed to anymore," Peter pointed out, grinning. "Agent Van Helsing stripped him of his powers of darkness and went and changed the rules on him."

"And we all lived happily ever after," Kate agreed with a little smirk as she leaned over to steal a more proper kiss, though Kurt pulled her hand a bit to keep her there longer as the kiss went on longer than either of them expected.

"Oh, it's gonna be _that_ kind of day," Sin muttered into her pancakes, glowering a bit harder when she saw Stark coming in with his smiling sweetheart.

"Hey, don't take this the wrong way," Tony said as he and Pepper came over hand in hand as they made their way over to the incredibly involved couple. "But, um. _Mazel tov_." He very delicately handed the tablet he'd promised to Kurt over to him. "Took some time, but there are some neat toys on that thing."

Kurt took his attention from Kate for a moment to grin at Tony. "Why on earth would I take that the wrong way?" he asked with an obnoxious wink.

"Well. Valentines … and oh, yeah. That. That's why right there."

"It's a good thing he's got such a jealous girlfriend, or you'd be in trouble," Kate teased, settling into Kurt's shoulder to look over the tablet. "But it's purple, so I might kiss you too."

"No, no," Tony said. "I'm perfectly content with my Valentine as she is."

"That's right you are," Pepper said with a little smirk as she tightened her grip on his hand.

"Seems like everyone is, actually," Peter pointed out, tipping his head at one of the further tables, where Carol and Rhodey were sitting apart from the others and leaning into each other, talking quietly. And Clint was nowhere to be found — though neither was Bobbi, so no one was surprised.

"I think everyone's just glad to _have_ Valentines out in the open," Cassie pointed out. "Last year we just… well. I don't think we did anything at all, actually. I think we traded 'Happy Valentines'? Jan made Hank leave the lab for a whole day, but that was about it," she admitted.

"So — quality time spent?" Kurt asked with a smile. "That sounds perfect."

"Yes, agreed," Kate said, her head on Kurt's shoulder as she lazily drew a smiley face on her pancakes with the syrup. "I say we ditch and go spend 'quality time' to mark the holiday."

"I'm in favor of that," Kurt agreed. "There's nothing planned or plotted until next week, last I heard."

"Yes, the great Van Helsing has slain his monster and has to take a break before he finds us new ones," Peter agreed solemnly, one hand on his heart to give more weight to his words. "Probably won't even see our Valentine 'til next Christmas, seeing as he's disappeared."

"I think he's cheating on us with another team," Kate said with a smirk.

"Typical," Peter said with mock disappointment. "One team just isn't enough for some people."

"I'm not complaining," Kurt said with a little smile. "He's too busy to give us an assignment, so why not take the day?"

"We call the rec room," Kate declared suddenly, looking at the other couples. "It's ours."

"Make sure your brother in bandages hasn't already taken it," Tony warned. "He and his pretty bird were headed that way last I saw."

"Well ... can we have the pool?" Cassie asked quietly, surprising a few of the others that _she_ was the second to speak up.

"You all heard it! Water is ours!" Wade half-shouted as he pointed around the room with two fingers.

"You need the whole pool, Cassie?" Luke asked with one eyebrow raised.

"YES," Wade said with his arms crossed. "You don't scare me, Lukecage. Not when my intentions are _pure._ "

"We're just going to go swimming," Cassie assured Luke soothingly. "I love swimming. And diving."

Luke just looked her way for a second before he grinned and nodded. "Yeah, you do."

It wasn't long before the kids all started breaking off in different directions after the breakfasts, though Carol and Rhodey simply stayed in the cafeteria, talking and teasing each other. Tony and Pepper headed to his workshop together, while Kate and Kurt of course went to the rec room — actually intending to play chess for a while.

And Cassie and Wade headed off for Cassie's favorite room in the whole of the Tahiti Wing. It took her next to no time to change into a swimsuit, and by the time Wade came out in his trunks, she was already up at the top of the diving tower looking out over the water with a wide grin. She gave him a little wave before she dived in, complete with a couple twists before she hit the water.

"Nice, Cassielang!" Wade called out, clapping when she came up after her dive. "Okay, my turn." He rushed for the ladder and she giggled at him as he climbed up to the top.

"Okay ... this … is really high up here," he said before he took in a deep breath and blew it out all at once.

"That's the best part!" she called up to him.

"Yesh, best part!" he called out before he started to mutter to himself about how crazy he must still be. "Stupid thing to do … what the heck am I doing anyhow?" he asked himself as he walked to the end of the board. "I don't know how to dive." But when he looked down to see her grinning at him, all he could do was just grin back and give her a wave.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before he edged to the end of the board and put his arms out — clearly setting himself up for what looked like a beautiful dive, only to take a couple steps back, looking totally nervous, before he bolted into a cannonball.

"Oh!" Cassie let out a little gasp as he hit the water, and she rushed over to where he was when he surfaced. "Are you okay? Don't _do_ that from that high up!"

"That … was fun," he said, half moaning to himself. "I can't feel my ass."

She tread water, looking nervous as she looked him over. "You can't do that from the diving tower. You need to be as small as possible when you hit the water."

"Well _now_ I know," he replied.

She shook her head at him, still looking concerned. "Let's just… we can swim in the main part of the pool," she said.

But he shook his head, waving his hand at her. "Don't let me slow you down —go ahead and dive, I'll just … float over here for a while."

She bit her lip. "Seriously — are you okay? You're going to be red tomorrow."

"Fine! I'm fine — really," he said with an honest grin that finally got her to let out her breath and relax the slightest bit.

"Okay. Just ... don't do a cannonball. I'm just glad it wasn't a belly flop. I did that once on accident trying to do a dive, and I was red all down my front for _days_ ," she told him.

"Looks to me like you're red all down your front right now," he said with a little smile.

She flushed brighter red and reached over to shove his shoulder. "Only because you scared me! You don't _have_ to dive if you don't want to. Not everyone likes being taller than the world," she said.

"I should probably just have you teach me," he said.

She brightened instantly. "Do you _want_ to? Because I could!"

"Well sure I do," he said. "But maybe give me a little time to bounce back."

"Right, right," she agreed. She climbed out when they got to the ladder and turned to give him a little wave. "I'm gonna go one more time, and then let's just swim around, okay?" She quickly ascended the ladder and peeked out over the edge to wave down at him before she did a backwards flip and half a turn before she hit the water, popping back up with a huge grin on her face as she swam back to the edge of the diving area.

"I love being tall," she whispered to him.

"That is much more impressive from _in_ the water," he said.

"I wish I could get the full turn," she admitted. "Actually, you should see Clint do stuff like this. He and Kurt can do the full turn and two flips, which is so not fair."

"I'm sure you'll get it, but you can't let him bring you down. Those circus brats …"

"Oh, I know. I just like diving for the thrill right when you jump. But it does look cool if you can do all the tricks," she said with a little grin.

He shook his head with a smile her way. "You, Cassielang, are an adrenaline junkie just looking for your next fix."

She laughed at him as they headed for the main area of the pool, away from the deep diving section. She swam backwards to look at him with a wide grin as she shook her head. "Well, how else was I supposed to turn out? Two years of only getting out of this place for dangerous missions?" she pointed out. "Besides, I just like heights. I'm _so_ not interested in the other stuff — you know, the shooting and stuff like that."

"Well between the two of us, we're pretty formidable then," Wade said.

She just had to stop and grin at him, thinking it over. "Yes, that's true," she muttered before she suddenly swam over to where he was and very quickly stole an honest to goodness kiss — very fast and nothing more than a peck, but she was grinning and blushing bright red all the same.

He didn't even attempt to hide the shock on his face as he looked at her with his mouth half open and his tone scandalized. "Why, Cassie Lang …"

She somehow turned a bit redder, though she was still grinning. "Uh ... Happy Valentine's Day?" she offered, still blushing.

He gestured toward her for a second with his eyebrows high. "May I?" She just nodded, and he pulled her closer very gently and gave her a wide grin before he kissed her right back — though a bit longer than the quick stolen kiss she'd planted on him. "Very Happy Valentine's."

* * *

In the rec room, Kate and Kurt had each won one round of chess apiece — which Kate was pretty proud of, since Kurt was the one to teach her how to play in the first place. They had the whole day to kill together, so they were both laid out on the floor resetting the chess board and simply _relaxing._

"I think, and I might need to knock on wood, but I think this is what normal people call a 'day off'," Kate teased when she'd finished setting up her pieces.

"I'm not sure what half of that sentence meant," Kurt replied with a smirk.

"Which half? The day off part? Because if that's the case, we need to do some serious 'save the overworked Elf' intervention."

"The day off, the normal part ... "

"Well…" She bit her lip and grinned at him. "Yeah, normal is just about out the window at this point, isn't it?"

"More or less," Kurt said, grinning right back. "Though I think normal is overrated terribly."

"Agreed. I much prefer my pirate to anyone else in the world," she said, leaning over the chess set to steal a kiss to prove her point.

"You seem to be a bit of a buccaneer yourself," he pointed out.

"I am?" Her eyes sparkled with trouble. "But _you're_ the pirate captain here, Elf."

"Obviously," he replied with a wider grin.

"And Peter's the first mate… so I'm not sure what that makes me. Unless I'm a co-captain," she teased.

"I can share my captaincy," Kurt said easily.

"I don't know," she said, pushing the chess board aside so she could scoot closer to him and steal another kiss. "I'm no good at sharing. Maybe I'm the competition. Captain Hawkeye, stealing your ships and your treasures before the Dread Pirate Elf can get there."

He frowned just the slightest before he darted forward and kissed her deeply. "I don't think so. You can't steal what I'll give you on my own if you just _ask._ "

"True," she said, resting her forehead against his before she kissed him right back.

The two of them stayed there for a while longer, grinning and occasionally stealing kisses and just generally enjoying their time off, before Kate asked quietly, "You think Logan and his mystery girl are doing anything for today? Because if they are, that settles it, and we need to find a way to approve of her somehow."

"Well, we do have a new toy," Kurt pointed out, gesturing at the purple tablet that was with the discarded chess set. "We can find out easily enough."

Kate leaned her chin on his shoulder as they pulled up the 'Peeping Elf' folder — as Tony had promised — which of course had Kate chuckling at the look of longsuffering on Kurt's face. But to both of their surprise, they couldn't find any sign of Logan _or_ the mystery girl.

"So ... did they go out for the day?" Kate asked as Kurt frowned at the image.

"It doesn't look like anyone has been home for a while," he said as he switched the view to the room where the usually blazing fire was long cold.

Kate reached across him to toggle through the different rooms, and when it was clear there was not only no sign of them but no suitcase or anything to show that the mystery girl was sticking around anymore, they both frowned at each other.

"This would be so much easier if we weren't getting all of our information secondhand," Kurt said, letting out a heavy, frustrated sigh.

"We'll just have to keep an eye out for him when he gets back," Kate said, reaching over to squeeze Kurt's hand.

"It's just that he seems so much happier when he's home," Kurt said quietly.

Kate watched Kurt's frown for a moment before she leaned over and kissed him deeply, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip until she felt him smile at last. "We'll ask Charles when he gets back," she told him in a husky whisper when she finally let him up for air. "But right now, you're just staring at an empty house when you could be kissing me."

"That … is very neglectful of me," Kurt said as he closed down the tablet.

* * *

Clint and Bobbi had spent the entire day together up until about mid-afternoon, when Bobbi looked at the time and looked like her shoulders were holding up the weight of the whole of Marvel. She hadn't had to go back to the Capitol for a full month, and while Clint didn't know _exactly_ what the deal was there, he had some suspicions, and he was just trying to make the first half of the day as fun as possible. They sparred, they had some of his secret stash of alcohol, and now he was waiting in the hallway while she did a quick change.

When she came back out, she was wearing a gorgeous dress that reached nearly to the floor, though with thigh-high slits, and the shoulders were bare except for two thin black straps that he reached forward to readjust without even thinking about it. "Wow, Bob," he said softly.

"Yeah, once in a while, Pixie really nails it, but her makeup skills … don't get me going."

"That why you're hiding out down here instead of getting dolled up topside?" he asked.

"More or less," she said. She shrugged one shoulder up slightly. "And ... I thought my Valentine should see my dress for the night."

"It's gorgeous. I'm already jealous of whoever is at the party you're going to," Clint told her honestly before he took a slight step forward and kissed her, long and hard, with his hand on her exposed back and the other hand around her neck. When he stepped back again, he was grinning. "For luck."

She grinned back at him for a moment. "I'll have to give that back to you tomorrow."

"You know, these things collect interest," he said with a little laugh.

"I'll take my chances," she said before she took his arm. "Walk me as far as you can?"

"Yep, right up to the wall and the guards who'll take me down if I look too longingly at the other side," he promised her with a crooked grin. "Though I may chance them — it's Valentine's after all."

"Don't get put into medical on my account," she said before she pulled him to a stop and kissed him again.

"Knock 'em dead," he told her when they reached the edge of the Tahiti Wing.

"I'd like to more days than not," she replied with a wink.

* * *

Carol and Rhodey were sitting in the catwalks about the hangar, enjoying some peace and quiet as Rhodey traced little patterns on back of her hand and she rubbed her thumb over his knuckles and leaned back into him.

Unlike Bobbi, Rhodey didn't _have_ to be anywhere that night, so he wasn't rushing off to the Capitol with some of the other victors, and Carol was grateful for that. She'd known since practically the beginning of their relationship that whenever Rhodey went to the Capitol, he came back jumpy and not at all himself.

Well… except for the most recent trip. Then, he had come back in a good mood, smirking about something Logan had done, though he wouldn't tell her what.

She'd only met Logan in passing, so she didn't have the attachment to him that the Awesomes did, but she had already decided that when it came time for SHIELD to let him in on the secret — there was just no way that wasn't going to happen at this point — she wanted to introduce herself properly. He'd known her name in the Capitol, but a _real_ introduction, she felt, was actually in order.

But that wasn't what she was thinking about as she leaned back on Rhodey's chest with her eyes closed. Instead, she was just enjoying the time with her flight instructor boyfriend.

He was honestly more fun since the rules had relaxed, too. Not that it hadn't been fun sneaking around looking for a place to kiss him, but Rhodey had relaxed significantly now that there wasn't the possibility of some kind of reprimand should they be caught.

Suddenly, Rhodey let out a little chuckle against her back, and she tipped her head back to look at him. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, though he was grinning quietly. "I just caught myself watching the cameras and the exits is all."

She smirked and leaned a little further back so she could steal a kiss that ended up being a little more involved when Rhodey was laughing and responsive like he was, and when it broke, she grinned up at him. "Must be part of your training. You're supposed to stay vigilant, aren't you?"

"Guess so," he agreed with a grin to match hers. "Though I'm pretty sure no one can get down here anyway."

A teasing smile spread over her face as she nodded. "You know, most men hide their princesses in towers."

"As if you would let me hide you away anywhere," he replied.

"Smart man," she laughed.

He grinned in response and shifted so he could pull her in for a longer kiss, one hand in her hair, with her fingers hooked in the collar of his shirt so she could pull him just as tightly as he was pulling her.

* * *

 _Jubilee's Apartment_

* * *

It was just about lunchtime when there was a knock on Jubilee's door, and she opened it to find a grinning Noh standing there with a box of takeout and a brand new set of headphones. "If anyone asks, I have come to ask your advice on styles for the upcoming Quarter Quell."

"Styles of kissing?" she teased.

"That is the unofficial reason, yes," he said with a grin as he stepped in and closed the door behind him with the heel of his boot. "I know you have dinner arrangements, so I thought perhaps lunch was in order."

"That sounds perfect," she agreed, hopping up on her toes to kiss him before he could set anything down. "Happy Valentines!"

"Happy Valentine's Day!" he said right back, setting down the food so that he could pull her up in his arms for a proper kiss.

"So, my date won't be here for a few hours … what _ever_ shall we do?"

"Well," he said with a little smile. "I brought a present. It is not a Valentine's present, because that would be improper. But it is ... a token of my affection and admiration for a fellow stylist."

"We can't have anything improper now," she said, smirking hard. "Besides, I needed you to come by. You're my one-man prep team, right?"

"Absolutely," he agreed. "And you will look fabulous tonight, of course. But first…" He readjusted the headphones around his neck and reached for the music player at his side to start playing several new songs she hadn't heard before, pulling her up into a dance with a wide smile. "The player is yours, by the way. It has entire playlists with just you in mind," he told her in a low whisper as he turned her in a slow dance.

"And I only got you chocolates and a scary movie — for later, of course."

"But that is my favorite," he insisted with a smile before he leaned down and stole a kiss. "Well, besides simply being with you."

She couldn't help but beam at him and hug him tightly. "I really hope this fake thing is over with soon. I hate this. We're not even a believable couple. He treats me like his little sister."

"I have to agree," Noh said with a sigh. "But then that was exactly true of him and my Kate Bishop. Clearly they do not understand love in the slightest — in any form."

"Clearly," she agreed. She took his hand and pulled him into her living room, where she had his gifts on the coffee table. "Your call, big boy. Your place or mine later?"

"Perhaps it should be mine — people may be watching yours to see if you bring your date home," he pointed out with a small sigh. "And I don't have any significant plans for tonight, so I can prepare some hot chocolate and blankets for our movie night," he added.

"That sounds perfectly cozy," Jubilee agreed.

He grinned and pulled her onto the couch with him, offering her one of his earbuds. "I thought perhaps I could design your look after a flower for tonight," he told her with a troublemaking look in his eyes.

"Tonight for my date or for tonight _later_?" she asked with a trouble making grin.

"Oh, I'll leave later to you," he said with a little laugh. "But I thought for your date…" He reached for his stylists' bag and showed her the earrings he'd brought. "They are acacia — symbolic of chaste love and friendship," he said, the grin widening.

"That's perfect," she giggled.

"I honestly considered hydrangeas, but those are for frigidity, and you are not that way even if this romance between you two is entirely made up."

"I was leaning toward a cherry blossom — and the fragility and beauty of life — but that's much more fitting for another time."

He laughed at her and tipped her chin up to steal a much more involved kiss, and it was some time before they even began to look at the rest of her outfit for the night.

It was nearly time for Jubilee's 'official' date to arrive when Noh finished curling her hair, and he gathered up his things to leave, though he paused in her doorway to say a proper goodbye, kissing her gently and carefully so he wouldn't mess up the beautiful job they'd done with her makeup and outfit.

"You're a lifesaver," she said softly.

"Any time," he said before he kissed her again — and this time, they heard the unmistakable shutter-sound of a camera.

Jubilee gasped slightly and Noh all but pulled the door handle out of her hands to close the door quickly, making off before it could get any worse, though how that would come to pass, he wasn't exactly sure. He just knew disappearing was the best move — or there would be even _more_ pictures.

It happened fast enough that when Logan made his way up to Jubilee's apartment a very short while later, she was still shaken, and on the verge of a panic attack.

"Are you gonna be alright?" Logan asked as he closed the door behind himself. "I'd call this thing off if I could."

"No, no we can't do that," she said as she looked up at him and then rushed over to throw her arms around his neck. "I think we just got ourselves in even more trouble," she muttered into the snuggle.

"I'm sure whatever it is can be pinned on me, so just calm down and tell me what happened," he said as he gave her a squeeze back.

"Noh was here," she admitted without picking her head up, halfway hiding in the hug. "And ... someone got a picture."

"So tell me who it was, and I'll shove their camera down their throat," he replied with a smirk.

"I don't know — Noh shut the door before I could see his face, but a little old lady lives across the way, so it wasn't who it was _supposed_ to be in that apartment," she said with a bit of a scowl.

Logan let out a little breath and nodded his head. "How fast do these people work around here? Couple hours, or do we have until morning?"

"Honestly? I'll be surprised if we make it through dinner," she told him, the glare deepening at the thought.

"Let's get it over with, then. With a little luck, we'll be done in time that you can spend some time with your actual Valentine." He glanced down at her dress for a moment. "You two work well as a team, too."

She had to smile at that and gave him another quick squeeze. "It's just — I'm _supposed_ to be going along with this crap and…"

"You did hear about Selene, right?" he said. "Because things are shifting with that crap. Maybe you can get out from under it."

"Well, that depends entirely on who takes over," she pointed out. "I know there was a big hubbub about her retiring or whatever, but—"

"She screwed over the royals, Jubes. She's not retired."

Jubilee gaped at him and squeaked out a little "oh."

"That's why none of your friends have seen their victors lately," he continued.

"That's good, though, right? I mean, they'll ease up on _all_ of you?" Jubilee asked hopefully.

"I doubt it'll stay that way, but … so far, yeah."

"Well, that makes me feel better then," Jubilee said with a decisive nod. She gave him another quick squeeze before she settled herself out and took a deep breath. "Alright. Let's just… get to the dinner party. We shouldn't be too late, or this might just be worse. And I really, really don't want it to get worse."

Logan nodded and offered Jubilee his arm to lead her out, and all seemed fairly reasonable until they got to the ground floor where some of the press was waiting already. He frowned a bit, and the two of them powered through to their ride, though it was just that much worse at the party once they got there — and the questions were already flying about Jubilee and Noh and just what Logan thought of his stylist cheating on him like that.

Jubilee half pulled Logan into a booth the moment they arrived at the party, insisting to anyone trying to get in their way that they were hungry, before she simply tried to look as small as possible once they pulled the curtains around the booth.

"Pretty sure curtains aren't going to help here," he teased.

"No? Well that's too bad for them, because I don't really want to hear it right now from those creeps," she said with a little glare as she just snuggled into his side. "And I actually am hungry."

He put his arm around her shoulders and let out a sigh. "If we can get away with hiding like this for the night, I promise I won't complain."

"Maybe it'll work," she said hopefully. "I mean, we're supposed to be dating, right? So they can just ... give us some privacy. They don't have to know we're just stuffing our faces!"

He actually chuckled at that one. "Right. That'll work."

"I'm a genius and you know it. Now what do you want to order?" she said, straightening up as she regained a bit of her smile.

"Order for me," he said. "I'm actually _not_ hungry."

She nodded and went through the menu, ordering for the two of them, though the next person to enter their booth wasn't the server.

"Well, isn't this cozy," Gamora said in a disinterested tone as she looked around the booth and slid into a seat with Peter Quill beside her — with the young, blonde victor looking _very_ concerned.

Logan took half a moment to decide what to do before he simply pulled over the champagne bottle and poured all of them a glass.

"You certainly know how to monopolize the attention of the public at every big appearance," Gamora said his way as she studied the glass in her hands for a moment, waiting until Peter had some of his before she stole the drink from him and gave him hers.

"It's not intentional," Logan said. "I'm sure they'll get tired of looking at me soon enough."

"That's usually the case for the newest victors, but you seem to have a particular flair for it," she said with a wicked smile.

"I'm really not doing anything," he replied.

"That much is true tonight, or I would not be here. I don't lower myself to such things as _attitude adjustments_ for the likes of you," she said smoothly, taking a long sip of champagne. "Actually, I came to discuss a matter of business with you."

Logan looked toward Peter for a moment to try to get a read on what was going on. The blonde victor didn't give much away, though, and instead, he looked incredibly concerned for his newest peer, not really looking at Jubilee.

"Of course," Logan replied carefully. "What can I do for you?"

Gamora looked him over for a long moment before she spoke. "Very few people know what happened with Selene, but as you are one of them, I trust you'll understand when I say she did not run her enterprise with any real _care_. Some of her decisions were frankly…" She waved her hand. "Self-destructive. Unnecessary. Wasteful, even."

Logan just held her gaze and tipped his head a bit her way when she paused, not willing to step into that tangle of crazy just yet.

"Some of these manufactured relationships, for example," Gamora said. "I can believe the one with Two's former escort, and even possibly a few of the others, but this?" She waved her hand between the two of them. "This is not working."

"It's really not," Logan agreed, shifting how he was sitting to a position more comfortable to reflect much clearer the fact that he and Jubilee were _friends_.

"And so wasteful," Gamora said, leaning forward a bit. "The false dramatics were actually hurting the brand, and my sister and I have no interest in micromanaging stylists and escorts ad nauseum. It's a waste of time better spent on other things. In truth, I find it _tacky_." She glanced between them. "As of tonight, you two are through. We'll have a spike in interest, even — a wounded little heart is always a nice selling point — but Selene's contract for you, Miss Lee, is no longer valid. As far as we're concerned, it was never necessary."

Jubilee barely squeaked out a very quiet 'thank you', though she still looked like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Of course, this means you'll be barred from spending any time together until the Quarter Quell. I don't want to spend the resources to clean up Selene's lies when people see you two so… _friendly_." Gamora frowned at them both before she simply stood up. "Now, there is dancing outside these four curtains. We can discuss the rest of our deal on the floor. Peter won't mind," she said without even looking at her 'date.'

Logan looked between Jubilee and Peter and gave one quick nod before he stood and followed Gamora out. They danced for a few moments in silence as Logan simply waited for her to tell him what she wanted, though for the time being, she seemed content merely to be seen dancing with him. When she finally turned her full attention to him, it was during a slow song as she leaned forward a bit. "You'll come to the palace one week from tonight," she told him.

"Alright," he said with a nod.

She raised an eyebrow at him and then added, "You won't be meeting with me alone. My sister and my brother will be there — and possibly my father, if he decides this tickles his fancy on that particular day."

"Whatever you'd like," he replied evenly. "Of course."

She watched him carefully for a moment, clearly surprised. "No threats or attempts to bargain?" She almost sounded disappointed.

He let a ghost of a smirk slip past. "Is that what you want me to do? Threats with no real backing? You hold all the cards, princess, so bargaining isn't really an option."

She smiled. "Good — then you _have_ been properly informed, haven't you?"

"I was never out of touch with things when it came to your family," he told her. "I did, however, take issue with someone else acting like they were the ones in charge."

"On that at least we can agree," she told him. She watched him for a moment longer before she let another smile touch her expression. "One more thing. Do take the time to acquaint yourself with Peter Quill. I tire of telling people the rules of visitors in the palace, and it's more fun to see just how well you comprehend — or watch you face the consequences otherwise."

"I'll try not to disappoint," he replied. "One way or another."

"Then I will see you next week," she said with a little nod. "Now, take me back to your booth so you can break your little stylist's heart."

As soon as the song ended, he offered her his arm and the two of them headed back. She and Peter didn't stay long at all as she pulled her victor off for a drink and some privacy together — and Logan let out a long breath after she left. "You're free to go to Noh," he told Jubilee simply. "I'm sure Gamora will give you extra points if you cry on the way out and help her turn me into the bad guy."

"But what about you? Are you going to be okay?" she asked, a bit wide-eyed.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Though considering the stipulations, I might need to have Noh or Honey or someone handle my suit next week."

"You know both of us will help you with anything you need," she promised.

"Did Quill tell you what's happening?"

"A little bit," she admitted. "He said you'd be, um…" She leaned forward. "Double-dating?"

"That's … yeah, she left that part out."

"Well…" She leaned ever further so that she was just inches away. "Peter wasn't supposed to tell me that. And I wasn't supposed to tell you. So act surprised."

"It's alright, I can keep quiet," he said. "I think she was just testing me to see if she could freak me out. Mentioned both of her siblings and maybe daddy dearest too."

Jubilee's eyes widened even further at the revelation. "That… are you sure you're okay? Because that's terrifying."

"I'll be fine," Logan replied with a smirk. "Worst he can do is kill me."

"Yes — yes that _is_ the worst he can do," she shot back.

"Relax, Jubes. That's not what my goal for the night is."

"It better not be," she said, smacking him in the chest with the back of her hand for good measure.

"Alright — I got you loud and clear," he said before he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Go see your Valentine."

She threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug before she kissed his cheek too. "Good luck," she said before she left the safety of the booth, covering her face in her hands to keep anyone watching from seeing that she was actually pretty happy about this turn of events — at least the dating part of it, not the Gamora part.

After that, it was a solid hour before Peter Quill found his way back to Logan, looking spooked and still with a bit of green lipstick smeared on his neck by his collar. "They're all in good moods, man. It's freaking me out," he told Logan, wide-eyed.

"I haven't done a damn thing," he said as he swirled the ice cubes in his glass. "You know that, right?"

Peter held up both hands. "Hey, I hear you. I still don't know what _I_ did to get stuck with this? But I'm just warning you. Whatever makes them happy — all three of them together — can't be good news."

Logan let out a sigh and nodded. "So, you're supposed to tell me the rules. Would I be far off to guess ' _be overly polite and cower when in doubt_?'"

"Yeah, those are the two big ones," Peter agreed with a bit of a smirk. "And generally try to look miserable — not that you have to try, but it you are already miserable, they don't try as hard to make it _worse_."

"Well, that was my mistake tonight then," he said. "She threatened with both siblings and Dad too. Thought you might want to know."

Quill goggled at him for a moment. "You know she doesn't bring her dad in unless it's a real possibility, right?"

"Now I do."

"Okay, but, dude, if he talks to you? At all?" Peter leaned forward, somehow paler than before. "We're going to need to talk, because he's actually certifiable, and you can _not_ logic him. At all. Just sit there and feed whatever he says and try very hard not to make him think you're anything but arm candy for his kid."

Logan nodded, watching the nervous young victor for a long moment until Peter leaned back. "Was your lady unhappy with our talk?" he asked.

"I… couldn't tell, honestly," Peter admitted. "She seemed excited about the possibilities, but she also said Nebula is going to be 'wearing a whole new look' — and I think she meant that in the 'I am about to screw my sister' kind of way, so… it's hard to tell."

"Always makes a guy feel good to know they're the means of pissing off the sister."

"Careful — that's part of how I got started. Nebula said I was wholesome? And Gamora took it as… I think a challenge," Peter said in a low whisper, rubbing one arm almost without realizing he was doing it. "Do I look wholesome to you? Because that's not what I was going for at _all._ "

"Comparatively?"

Peter just shook his head. "Yeah, well. I'll walk you through the people you aren't allowed to address and the rooms you can't go in," he said, though this time there was a spark of trouble in his gaze. "You got anything to drink? This is gonna take a while."


	44. Class Is in Session

**Notes: Don't mind us, nothing to see here, we're just showing you all the men and women and kids behind the curtain….**

* * *

 **Chapter 44: "Class Is In Session"**

* * *

 _February 16_

 _Phil Coulson's Tahiti Office_

* * *

Coulson glanced up at the knock on the door and reached over to press the button at his desk that would let his visitor in, hardly looking up from the reports and other things he was still wading through — which was hard to do one-handed, really, but he didn't want to spend any more time in medical "recovering."

"Agent," Tony said as he stepped inside. "You wanted to see me? I'd say mission complete." He paused for a moment when he saw the sling that Coulson was clearly trying to hide. "What … how'd that happen?"

Coulson just waved his free hand. "Occupational hazard. Please, sit down, Mr. Stark."

Tony moved to take a seat, but he couldn't help but pry a bit, his gaze still on the dark blue sling and a frown creasing his forehead. "So that's you saying it didn't happen from slipping and falling on the ice, then."

"Maybe it did and I just like the mysterious sound of 'occupational hazard,'" Coulson replied without changing his expression in the slightest.

"I'd go for 'bar fight' myself. Sounds more adventurous."

Coulson smirked. "I may be a trained spy, but do you honestly believe anyone would think _I_ was in a bar fight?"

"That's what makes it so fun," Tony replied with a grin. "So, what's the real reason you wanted me here, Agent? Lose your password for Fury's email?"

"Actually, I wanted to give you a few days off from the projects we've currently got you assigned to," Coulson said, smirking a bit harder now. "And give you time to prepare for a different assignment altogether."

"Sounds awful. What is it?" Tony was leaning back with his hands clasped loosely in front of himself with a frown.

"We'd like you to get the rest of the Tahiti operatives up to speed on tech basics," he said. "Teach a class — show them how to _use_ technology to keep from being caught, as opposed to just avoiding it."

"They don't have any trouble using the devices I give them," Tony said. "Why would they even _want_ to use someone else's?"

Coulson just gave him a dry look. "Not every mission is so cut and dried — and if we get them on infiltration, there won't always be Stark goodie bags just lying around for them to use."

"What … if there was a Stark goodie that just did it _for_ them?" Tony said with a little troublemaking expression.

"Then they'd just be reliant on that and would be no good in the field if they lost it."

Tony let out all his breath in a sigh that communicated exactly how put out he was that he had to deal with _anything_ that he hadn't invented. "Alright, I think I see where you're headed. I'll see what I can do, I guess."

"Good." Coulson nodded once, though he was smirking hard. "Your first class is in a couple of days. That's more than enough time to prepare."

"Woah, so ... all of them? At once?"

"We'll start you out with small groups," Coulson said flatly. "I need you to get a read on who needs the most attention. Obviously, people like Parker, Lang, and Banner won't need the remedial stuff."

"Right. Should be _fun._ " He gave Coulson an unimpressed sort of look as he stood up. "Oh, anything else? Maybe you want to make me do something that could be more painful? Like … sharing a sleeping bag with Wade?"

Coulson just smirked at that one. "Just make sure they know enough that they can use it in the field. I'm not asking you to turn them into engineers or rocket scientists. I'll leave that to Fitz next time he wants to start something in the lab down here instead of upstairs." With that, he just waved Tony off as the young man looked very much like he would rather be facing Ultron again than coming up with something like a _lesson plan_.

* * *

 _February 17_

 _Undisclosed SHIELD Training Facility_

* * *

"How is it that no matter where you show up, no matter how small of an appearance it is, you manage to bring down the biggest damn trouble I have ever seen?" Fury looked somewhere between irritated and impressed that a simple public appearance had turned into a required invite to the palace.

"No clue, but I'd be happy if it stopped," Logan replied without missing a beat. "At least this kind of trouble."

Fury glared at Logan for a moment before he turned his attention to the other victor in the room. "How bad is it, Quill? Is this a grab attempt or an attempt to get the newest victor publicly backing their regime or … just what the hell is going on?"

Quill was leaned against the wall with one foot propped up watching Fury glare at Logan, but he straightened up on being addressed and shook his head. "Not sure. Gamora doesn't seem to think he's a loyalist, but… Nebula has been preening for two days about this whole thing, so I think _she_ is convinced she's got the first Capitol-supporter — you know, one that doesn't have to get dragged in by her sister? — in her pocket." He glanced Logan's way. "It was the bit about Selene not being the one in power. She was eavesdropping and thought it was… I think she said 'refreshing'."

"One off-handed remark to try and keep my ass outta trouble …" Logan was muttering under his breath. "I didn't say I liked what they were doing either, though."

"Yeah, I noticed," Quill agreed. "So did Gamora — but she's smarter than the other two. Stuff like that goes over the Smurfs' heads."

"So … what am I looking at here?" Logan asked, arms crossed and looking irritated with himself. "And what are the chances I'm going to have to juggle all three of them?"

"Ronan takes an interest in Nebula's interests and vice versa," Quill told him honestly. "They like to team up. If you could manage _not_ to feed that, I'd be very grateful. And, believe it or not, so would Thanos."

"I don't even know how the hell it got this far," Logan replied with a little bit of heat. "So how do I not feed it when I don't … I didn't _do_ this."

Quill crossed his arms and thought about it for a second. "Well…" He pursed his lips. "See, if you can figure a way to keep _both_ of them from thinking you're the greatest thing since sliced bread, they'll stop working in tandem. At least against you. Otherwise, they share a brain half the time."

"How the hell do I do that?"

"If I knew, do you think I'd still be where I am?" Quill shot back. "I'm just saying there are things to shoot for, man. Best case scenario — you break up the dynamic duo with whatever the heck animal magnetism got you here in the first place. That'd be _great_."

"That's sick, Quill."

"I spend most of my time in the palace. It's rubbing off on me," he shot back, though he was smirking the slightest bit.

"Both of them like to watch people squirm," Fury interjected. "Manage not to do that, and they'll probably lose interest."

"Good luck," Quill muttered.

"If that's all I gotta do, then _fine._ " Logan shook his head Quill's way if nothing else just for the expression he was still giving him.

"So that brings us to inside," Fury said. "Before we worry too much about how to handle the crazy kids, let's cover where you can't go — and where you should go." He turned Peter's way. "I'm operating under the assumption that this will be strictly a follow-the-leader affair anyhow, or …"

"Yeah, no wandering allowed," Quill agreed with a nod. "Gonna be a lot of eyes on our little Wolverine, so don't even try it, man. Not this go-round, anyway."

Logan just pinched the bridge of his nose as he swore under his breath Quill's way, but Fury powered forward. "Then the focus will be off of you a bit then," Fury said.

Quill raised both eyebrows Fury's way but nodded all the same. "Yeah, I'm not shiny and new anymore."

"I've got a new team that'll be going in before the Quarter Quell, and I want some of the new bugs planted as far reaching as you can get them."

A slow sort of grin started in on Quill's expression. "Sounds like fun," he said.

"So I'll have Fitz show you how they work," Fury said to Quill. "They are tiny."

Quill nodded once. "Good, because the security in that place is heavy. Got worse after the nonsense in Eleven, by the way. Sam told me about that — Thanos is paranoid. Again."

"Well as long as this team doesn't make the same kind of mistakes," Fury said, pausing for just a moment. "Then there won't be anymore triggered paranoid delusions."

"Yay," Quill said, twirling one finger. "Then we just gotta worry about the not-triggered kind."

"Can't do anything about those," Fury said dryly. "Which brings us to —" He turned toward Logan again. "Do _not_ try to word your way around anything Thanos says."

Logan just stared back at him for a moment. "Wouldn't dream of it," he replied.

Fury glared at him hard. "There is no room for games here."

"Not playing any," Logan said seriously.

Fury watched him for a moment longer before he spoke to Quill, though he didn't drop his gaze from Logan. "You two — take a few hours and tell him everything you can about what to expect."

"Yeah, no worries. Don't want him accidentally finding out which rooms are not allowed. They get pissy when that happens," Quill said, looking entirely serious for the first time, and Fury just gave him a nod before he headed out the door.

* * *

 _February 18_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"Okay, so … please, please tell me you know how to at least start up a computer," Tony said to the little gathered group of TAHITI ops. "I know you can. And you … you … I wonder about," Tony said, pointing to Bruce, Cassie, and Peter respectively.

Peter looked perfectly straight-faced as he tipped his head at Tony. "I hold down the button with the circles around it until it decides to scream and turn blue, right?" he asked innocently.

Tony pointed one finger at him and glared. "You. Are _not_ funny."

"Neither are you," Peter shot back, leaning back in his seat with his feet kicked up. "Yes, I know how to start a computer. And hack cameras. As you _may_ recall." He brushed the edges of his knuckles off on his chest for emphasis.

"I do," Tony said. "For three seconds or something equally impressive. Staying power, web-head. Get some."

"It was five minutes, and you're still not teaching the rest of us about the magical blue screaming button," Kate broke in with a troublemaking smile. "I want to know about that one."

"I should have known better than to tease one of the gang," Tony said, shaking his head as he tried to tell them how to get started. But, as was predictably the case, the five minute intro on how to get into their 'projects' was quickly eclipsed by rapid geek-speak that very few in the room could understand, let alone keep up with.

What was worse was that anyone who valiantly attempted to get Tony to re-explain, or slow down, or clarify - was just met with a look that clearly read he didn't understand why they were too stupid to follow him and even more geek speak.

Which just had his classroom full of kids pretty much checking out on him.

Peter had pulled up his computer and was playing games on it — though that was impressive itself because there weren't any games necessarily programmed into the thing. Cassie was valiantly trying to follow Tony's instructions, and Bruce was trying to help her as gently as he could, even though tech wasn't his strongest suit and even he occasionally lost Tony.

The others in the room weren't even trying after about ten minutes or so. Sin actually just walked out of the room, declaring, "I'll get more done stabbing dummies than letting my ears bleed in here."

Clint on the other hand was just screwing with Tony as much as possible, building little projectiles out of anything he could to smack Tony in the back of the head anytime he turned as Carol encouraged him with little whispered bets as to whether or not he could hit other kids too.

Kate and Kurt weren't even pretending to be interested in the class but instead had pulled out a book that Kurt was reading as Kate read it with him over his shoulder. He was a faster reader than her, so he would give her little kisses on the cheek and temple while he waited for her to finish a page, and clearly, computers were not as interesting as that was.

"You guys aren't even trying," Tony said, one hand half covering his face in exasperation.

"Neither are you," Luke pointed out from where he was leaned back in his seat and clearly on his way to a good, long nap.

"I … told you what you needed to do," Tony argued. "You just aren't _doing it_."

Clint barked out a little laugh and caught Kate's attention with a little whistle. When she looked his way, he signed out a few sentences that had Kate laughing outright, and Clint just looked past her to Tony. "So how come you're not doing what I told you just now, huh, Stark? Gave you real clear instructions."

"You know what, the only sign I know involves one finger, Barton."

"I know that one too," Wade sang out with a little grin.

"This is _basic_ ," Tony said. "I can't … " He made a totally frustrated noise as he threw his arms up. "I can't work like this."

"Imagine how we feel on the other side of it," Ororo said with a little smirk.

Almost on cue, Coulson stepped in to see how the progress was coming, though the truth was that he'd been watching the whole time and simply couldn't believe how much trouble Tony was having. "Everything okay?" he asked. "Do you all feel properly educated?"

"Only if Stark here thinks we learn by osmosis," Steve said with a crooked smirk.

"No one … _no one_ can teach these guys anything," Tony insisted, gesturing at his 'students' in varying states of paying attention. "You have to _want_ to learn this stuff to pick it up."

"That's _so_ not the problem here," Kate grumped, looking up from the book to stick her tongue out at Tony.

"You have to know what an IP address even _is_ before you can check it," Ororo added. "Which we _don't_."

"Most of us haven't dealt with computers beyond what we've used for missions — and watching broadcasts and stuff like that," Kurt pointed out. "Even Pepper's tablet is easy to use, but I don't know how to _find_ the 'control panel' on this thing."

"These are basic issues," Coulson said as he turned to Stark. "Is the problem the fact that it's not yours? I know _you_ know how to work the other stuff, but you have a tendency to design your own tech with a much more intuitive, user-friendly way of working."

Tony looked like he was quickly shifting from flustered to agreeing with what Coulson was saying.

"There's not anything strictly wrong with that. You're used to making things easier to use, so I guess, if I try really hard, I can see why you can't _slow down enough_ to teach the older tech."

"We're a buncha remedial idiots, Tony," Clint said easily, not even bothering to hide it as he flicked another projectile at him.

"You really are," Tony replied with a little smirk. "Remedial idiots I've been trying to create things for so you don't _have_ to know this crap."

"Alright. Just ... forget everything Stark didn't teach you. I think I have someone I can pull in on this," Coulson said, shaking his head at the group of them. "I just hope she's up to teaching the whole group."

* * *

 _February 20_

 _Phil Coulson's Non-Tahiti Office_

* * *

"I hope those bugs are ready and operational," Coulson said as Fitz and Skye made their way to their seats.

"Oh, they're more than ready," Fitz said with a grin as he lit up at the chance to gush about the project. "I looked over the specs, and these things are entirely self-sustaining, so there won't be any detectable influence on any cameras or systems they're attached to."

"Excellent," Coulson said, pleased as always with his team's performance. "They're going into the field tomorrow, and I need you to prep Quill on how they work."

Fitz grinned wider at that and nodded. "Shouldn't be a problem. They're easy enough to use."

"Wonderful," Coulson said, not bothering to hide his smirk before he turned to the other operative in front of him. "Skye, I need you to do a less intense class on security. Nothing as miserably complex as your last assignment, though."

"I wouldn't say my last one was miserable," Skye said before she could stop herself.

Coulson just looked at her for a moment with his eyebrows raised before he continued. "I'm sure," he said. "This group needs basics, and how to navigate most of the lower-level and medium range security hazards. It's on the other side of the program, so you can't say a word about your last assignment to any of them."

Skye raised both eyebrows at that but nodded quickly. "Right — got it. No sharing class notes between the two assignments."

"I doubt this one will give you the chance for fireside drinking sessions either," Coulson said with an amused sort of smirk.

"One time, Coulson. _One_ time," she muttered, though Fitz was just giving her a strange sort of look.

"Drinking on the job, Skye?" he asked, a teasing grin spreading quickly.

" _No_."

"That's what it sounded like," he said.

"She was definitely _off_ the clock," Coulson added. "SHIELD doesn't provide _that_ kind of benefits package."

"And what kind of package is that, exactly, Miss Skye?" Fitz asked, turning to Skye as the grin just kept getting wider and wider. "Anything _special_?"

She turned a bit pink and glared at Coulson instead of Fitz. "That is not up for discussion." She turned to Coulson with one finger pointed his way. "You did this on purpose."

"Maybe just a little bit," Coulson replied with an obvious smirk.

She stuck her tongue out at Coulson and then turned to Fitz. "Don't you have someplace to be?" she asked pointedly.

"These bugs practically plant themselves," Fitz started to say, but when Skye gave him a _look_ that, admittedly, after spending a lot of time with Logan, was more terrifying that it had been a month ago, he got to his feet. "Ah, yes. Yes, I do have a place to be. Have fun with your no-benefits assignment!" He gave Skye a little grin and a wave before he headed off to go find Peter Quill and make sure he was ready for the palace appearance the next night.

Skye cleared her throat once Fitz had left and then looked up at Coulson. "So. When do I start?"

"I'd like to get you down there tonight after they're done with the usual training so you can get a read on how much work needs doing. Come up with a training and lesson plan from there that you and Fitz can both work — you'll be tag-teaming this assignment, in case I need one of you elsewhere during class hours," Coulson told her. "The Games are coming up soon, after all."

She gave him a tight smile and nodded. "Great. Sure. Why not? I'll just ... see what I can come up with for the whole … bunch of them."

Coulson gave her a reassuring look. "We won't expect you to teach them all at once. A few of them already _are_ tech-savvy. More than likely, we'll break them into groups based on how much work is needed. But you do need to gauge just what those groups will be."

"Okay, sure. That's probably a really good way to handle it," she agreed with an almost nervous nod. "Just come get me when it's time to go, I guess. I'll be here. Waiting."

* * *

 _February 20_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"I thought for sure we wouldn't have another one of these, considering how the last one went," Kate said to Kurt as the two of them headed hand-in-hand from the training room to the side 'classroom' that Tony had _tried_ to set up for his tech class.

"Coulson did say that he had a different teacher in mind," Kurt pointed out, but Kate shrugged and laughed at that.

"Yeah, but... honestly."

Kurt shook his head at her as they just found the same seats they'd had earlier, though he couldn't help but smirk at Kate as he pulled out the copy of Sherlock Holmes that they were still working on together — halfway through _Hound of the Baskervilles_. "Don't worry. I brought reading material," he teased, and she just laughed and leaned over to steal a kiss.

The rest of the group of Tahiti kids trickled in one at a time, chatting back and forth as they did. Ororo and Carol were the last to arrive, in from a flight simulation as Ororo looked particularly pleased with herself. She'd won their dogfighting sim, and no amount of Carol's insisting that she'd gone easy on the younger girl was going to change that.

Then, at last, their new teacher swept in — but it wasn't Tony, or anyone else they'd seen around the Tahiti program, either.

"Hey—" Peter started to say before Kate kicked the back of his chair hard enough to jerk him forward. After all, they weren't supposed to recognize the dark-haired girl that had just walked into the room as the mystery girl who had been at Logan's house a few weeks ago, and they didn't exactly have a good explanation to give Coulson if he realized that they did know her.

The young woman looked over the group of assembled kids and tucked her hair behind both ears before she cleared her throat. "Okay, hi," she said with a little wave. "I'm Skye. And I guess I'm your new teacher or trainer or whatever they want to call it."

Kate caught Kurt's gaze and raised her eyebrows at him, mouthing out 'Skye' as he nodded, a frown creasing his forehead as he leaned forward.

But Skye simply looked around at them again and sort of nodded to herself. "Alright, let's see what you guys know," she said as she started to walk them through some of the basic steps. But unlike class with Tony, anytime one of the kids reached a point where they didn't know what she was talking about, Skye would just smile at them and write something on her personal tablet.

"That's fine," she told Steve when he told her he didn't know what on earth she was talking about. "I'm just marking where you are. I'll show you how to get there later."

By the time fifteen minutes had passed, most of them had reached the point where they just didn't know where to go, but Skye had marked every place where they'd had to stop and looked a little frustrated, even if she was still nodding to herself.

"Okay, okay. So. You know how to _use_ this stuff, but not how to make it work for you," she summed up once she felt like she had a handle on it. "So my goal here is to make it so that you can do more than just pull up files and look through data. You should be able to change data, hide your data stream, and redirect the data flow when we're done. But ... that's next time." She smiled at them all. "So… I know we didn't really _learn_ anything today, but ... you all followed that, right? Any questions?"

"Do you spend all your time teaching?" Kurt asked with a little smirk.

"Ah, no," she said, shaking her head. "I'm still relatively new at teaching. I mean — you guys aren't the first, no worries, but I really am more of the tech girl than the tech teacher."

"So what got you into teaching?" Kurt asked, matching Kate's smirk as the pair of them fell easily into an interrogation that Skye didn't even realize was happening.

"Directorial order. I didn't know I was becoming a tutor until Director Fury dropped me into it," she said. "It's not a chosen profession."

"We're just impressed, that's all — you're already better than our _last_ teacher," Peter said, completing the group interrogation of awesomes.

"Then your last teacher really can't have been that good," Skye said with a crooked smile. "All I've done is just ... see what you know? Consider it a pre-test."

Kurt frowned a bit and let out a tiny sigh that only Kate really caught. "Then … how did you do with your last _class_?"

Skye looked his way with the tiniest pink flush before she took in a breath. "Well, my last one wasn't very structured. I'm still learning how to tutor," she admitted.

"So is that an ongoing assignment?" Kurt asked, openly smirking now, though a few of their fellow classmates were openly watching the tennis match of an interrogation.

"The being a tutor thing? I guess so?" Skye said with an open shrug. "Honestly, I just want to write algorithms, but I am a people person, so… they keep putting me with people." She grinned at the group. "Not that I'm complaining, of course. I bet you guys are _way_ more fun than stuffy SHIELD agents any day."

"Oh, every day," Kate agreed with a little laugh.

"If we're really awful, will we have to do private lessons?" Peter asked, trying hard not to laugh at his own joke.

"Maybe?" Skye said with a shrug, though she looked a little caught off-guard by the question. "But it's been my experience that it's really not too bad if you just pay attention and tell me when I'm talking over you, so I don't think that'll be a problem. I taught myself, and I've helped Coulson into the tech era, and even I don't get some of the fancy geek speak sometimes." She grinned at them crookedly. "So you know ... unless that's your way of hitting on me and asking for private lessons… in which case. I'm flattered. But. No thank you. You're way too tiny and young for me."

"I'd kind of assumed that, actually," Peter said under his breath.

"We're just wondering if you're the one they send for _all_ the remedial cases or if it's a catch-all," Kate said with a light shrug and a barely-contained grin.

"It doesn't really matter?" Skye pointed out. "As long as you guys pay attention and learn this stuff, I swear, I'll get out of your hair, and I won't compare you to anyone else I've taught. Everyone learns differently."

"What if we're competitive about it?" Kurt asked.

"Then we can set up groups," Skye said, starting to grin. "Actually, yeah, that would be fun. Do competitive security systems training — one group setting up the firewalls and the other trying to break through… That… Yeah, we're going to have to do that now. That's kind of genius — thanks, Kurt!" She beamed at him openly.

Kurt couldn't help but return the grin her way as she started to gather her things.

"Okay, so — I'll be back tomorrow with a better lesson plan, and I'll have you guys in groups based on what you need to know. Don't need to go through finding an IP address for some of you, but others need to know how to do a basic scan…." She glanced up at the group. "Oh, um, class dismissed, by the way."

The group of Tahiti kids all shared looks, and in particular, Team Awesome seemed to hang back a bit as the rest of them all filed out to go find a bite to eat or a moment of privacy.

Kate gave Skye a brilliant smile as she threw an arm around the woman's shoulders. "So, okay, you said you work for SHIELD, but _we've_ never seen you around here before, so when exactly did you get the zombie speech and how many undead jokes are you prepared to handle, because if Wade gets going, there are a _lot_."

"I work for _Coulson_ ," Skye said with a shrug. "And he told me a few months after he hired me."

"How is he for a boss?" Peter asked. "Because he's kind of a cream puff with us. Favorite agent ever."

"He is _such_ a cream puff," Skye agree with a look of sheer delight. "And I'm calling him that now, thanks. He said he was tired of AC. Let's see how well that works for him instead."

"So, you've known for years now?" Kurt asked as Kate and Peter were mouthing 'AC' at each other with horrible, horrible grins. "It was a shock to us. It had to be for you too."

Skye shook her head at him. "I can't tell you how long I've known, I don't think, but yeah. It was… I had to sit down for a long time. Dreams about zombies in the basement ..."

"Then at the expense of my ego — who was your pick to win this last year?" Kurt asked with a little grin that Peter echoed quickly. "I like to hear who everyone liked _after_ I was out of the running."

"Oh, well." Skye looked around the group of them. "I really liked your team, to be honest."

"Of course you did; we were the best alliance _ever_ ," Kate said with a bright smile.

"You really were," Skye agreed, matching Kate's bright tone. "And actually, I was really rooting for you, Kate. Because Wa- my trainer said you couldn't beat Logan, and I wanted to shove it in his face. _So_ badly. Because he needs to be taken down eight hundred notches."

"Sounds like," Kate said, though her grin had slipped the slightest.

"So did you take him down a few notches anyhow? You know. For … reasons?" Peter asked.

"Not me personally, but another member of my team did. She, um, she used to sleep with him, and I think the whole experience made her meaner," Skye said, making a bit of a face.

"Doesn't sound like anyone you'd want to hang out with if sleeping with him made her meaner," Peter said as he pulled a face.

"Yeah, he's not on my team anymore, no worries," Skye assured him with a little shrug.

"So who _is_ on your team?" Kurt asked, still fishing hard.

"We don't get any real news down here. We need gossip," Kate added in a conspiratory whisper.

"Oh, well, it's not really a secret," Skye said with a shrug. "You guys've probably seen Fitzsimmons around the labs, right? They're my team, and then Coulson and the ever-terrifying May. Who — I don't know if you've met her, but she's the scariest mom friend I have ever, _ever_ seen. Tripp, who, is _such_ a blast to hang out with off duty. Seriously. You'd love him. Everyone does. Oh. And Mack. He's our 'mechanic', but like the sweetest guy on the planet."

"Mays are always scary," Peter said, nodding seriously.

"But that's it. Nothing super special, sorry, guys," Skye said with a little smile. "The best I can do for you for gossip is that Fitz keeps making puppy dog eyes at Simmons, but you probably know that already, don't you?"

"We had heard rumors, but we love to hear about who's making puppy dog eyes at who." Kurt just smiled a bit wider. "Are they the only ones making eyes?"

Skye turned his way, a bit pink for a second before she managed to cover, "If you're asking me who Coulson has eyes for, sorry, but that is my boss, and I _like_ my assignments with him."

"I didn't even know Coulson had eyes for someone," Kate muttered at Peter, who looked like Christmas had come early for teasing their Agent Van Helsing.

"Gotta be the scary mom-friend," Peter said at a stage whisper. "Perfect pairing for Van Helsing the Super Dad."

"I can neither confirm nor deny that assumption," Skye said in her best Coulson imitation.

Kurt chuckled. "And you? If everyone else is finding someone around you …"

She pulled a bit of a face at Kurt. "Yeah, the last guy who kissed me was the one we had to kick his butt and taken him down nine hundred notches, so clearly I have bad taste." She shook her head. "I just convey the gossip; I'm not _in_ it."

Kurt frowned just a bit at that. "That makes it much less fun," he said with a nod.

"But _you two_ are adorable together," Skye said, motioning between Kate and Kurt. "Called that from the start of the Games, but I'm a little smarter than the rest of the Capitolites that believe the peddling."

"You must be if you're willing to play with us lowly outliers," Peter commented off-handedly.

"Oh, come on. I've been to all the districts since I started working with SHIELD, and the outliers are _gorgeous_ and…" She trailed off, blushed a bit, and shrugged. "And a little less terrifying, to be honest."

"Well. It's becoming established fact that outliers are the best people anyhow," Peter replied. "Just taking you Capitol folks a little longer to catch up to that."

"Didn't take _me_ that long to figure it out," Skye insisted. "I'm not from the upper crust, though. Believe it or not, there are still some poor Capitolites who enjoy watching the outer districts spit in the inner districts' faces." She smirked and winked at Peter. "You know. Underdogs."

"So better taste with age," Kurt said with a nod.

"Something like that," Skye had to laugh. "Seriously, though, I'm not really one you can gossip about? I live in my room working on programming and network security. So…." She shrugged and pointed at herself. "Single and never mingling. Or not much anyhow."

"Mixed signals," Kurt whispered to Kate.

Kate just nodded at him before she looked at Skye. "But you have to get out sometimes, right? I mean — for the tutoring. And you said you'd been to all the districts. Tell me you have a favorite. I know it's not Twelve, because even _I_ know it's depressing there, but…"

"Oh, Twelve is actually very pretty from the air," Skye assured her. "Outside the fence — it's a really nice area. And I do like the beaches in One, I have to admit — even if it was winter when I went there." She shrugged up both shoulders. "Seven is nice too. I'm a fan of snow."

"Then that's the right one," Peter said, nodding. "Super duper snow there, right?"

"Oh yeah. It comes down in sheets there sometimes. Not like the light dusting we got during our stops in a few other places," Skye said, her grin widening substantially. "But I did go to Eleven in the summer once, and it was _sticky_ hot, which I hated, so I may be biased toward the cold anyway."

"Well, we've taken up too much of your time," Kurt said, grinning at his friends. "I'm sure you have actual work to get back to. Unless … perhaps next time you could bring us some news?"

"I'd have to ask Coulson what you guys're allowed to see, but if you have requests, I'll do my best," she promised.

"Just the newspapers," Kurt said. "I have a few novels to work through in the meantime." He held up the pilfered _Sherlock Holmes_ as evidence with a little grin.

"I read them with him," Kate agreed with a sedate smile.

"Well, if I can get you newspapers, I'll see if I can find you some stuff on everything you've missed. Most of the people you know are secret agents, though, so … I can't promise much," she said with a small smile.

"Not _all_ of the people we know," Kurt replied, though it was clear to his friends that he was, once again, fishing.

"Well, yeah obviously," she agreed. "I mean, the fourth member of your alliance — he's in the papers all the time, but it's all crap. You _so_ shouldn't read that nonsense. It's like, 90% made up."

"It's the only way I get to hear anything about him," Kurt replied, putting on his very best 'concerned best friend' face. "True or not, I'd like to know what's happening."

She hedged for a moment and looked Kurt's way. "Well... I can probably bring you newspapers, but I'm telling you — it's fake. Staged. Total fiction."

"I know," Kurt said, nodding his head. "I can tell by the look on his face what's going on with him."

"You should teach me that trick," Skye said with a sideways smirk.

"Why would you need it unless you were planning to spend time with him?" Kurt challenged.

"I'm not — not that I know of," Skye defended quickly, suddenly pink as she realized she'd just been blindsided. "It sounds like a good trick, is all."

"Well," Kurt said, half shrugging his shoulders. "That's not the kind of thing I'd teach to anyone who needed a good trick. _Serious_ tire kickers only."

"You're a good friend to him," Skye said seriously as she tried to recover. "I mean, you're dead and still watching out for him? Wish I knew someone like that."

"He'd do the same for me," Kurt replied. "He watches out for his friends."

"Yeah, I could tell that from watching the Games," Skye nodded carefully watching her words now. "You guys were pretty tight. I'm just… _really_ glad you're not all dead, so you can stay that way, y'know?"

"Too Awesome to keep down," Peter said with his chest puffed out a bit.

"Clearly," Skye agreed with a little giggle as she again brushed her hair behind her ears. "So, yeah, I'll see about getting you some newspapers. _And_ I'll tell you which ones are total bunk. Which is like all of them, but hey. You asked."

"Thank you," Kurt said with the grin at full power once more. "We appreciate everything you're doing to help."

She just gave him a raised-eyebrow look but grinned. "Anytime."


	45. Matchmaking

**Notes: This chapter… is particularly evil. We're sorry in advance.**

* * *

 **Chapter 45: "Matchmaking"**

* * *

 _February 21_

 _Presidential Palace_

* * *

"Nice suit," Peter Quill said, nodding at Logan when the two victors met up where they were expected to be greeted and let into the palace and looking resigned, but not comfortable, in his own black-and-red getup.

"Suit's a suit," Logan grumbled as he tried not to fiddle with the yellow tie too much. "Noh and Doreen were awful happy about it though."

"Yeah, well. Stylists," Quill said with a shrug. "Never gonna understand 'em."

"I'm just ready for whatever the hell this is to be over with."

"Story of my life," Quill agreed before one of the palace guards finally came out to meet them, leading both men very carefully through the grounds and the gardens with strict instructions not to touch anything. At all. And considering how things had gone for Kestrel's brief infiltration attempt on the palace during the victory tour, there was very, very good reason.

Gamora and Nebula were at a gazebo in the gardens, clearly arguing about something, though when the victors got close enough to even begin to overhear them, both women stopped arguing and instead turned their attention to the newcomers — Gamora looking decidedly more pleased and at ease than her sister.

"You're early," Gamora observed.

"Watch must be fast," Quill replied with a little shrug.

"I doubt that," she said as she slipped over to where they were and walked a small circle around them both, critically eyeing them from head to toe. "Passable," she said at last.

"Debateable," Nebula said from the gazebo, her gaze on Logan in particular and a frown on her face before she seemed to shrug it off and slipped over to the men to drape an arm over Logan's shoulders almost experimentally, clearly watching him for a reaction more than actually wanting to touch him.

Gamora too was watching, though she looked far more entertained — whereas Nebula looked disappointed — when Logan didn't give her a dramatic flinch or anything else she might have expected. "This is going to be fun," Gamora told Peter, who just looked at her with slightly wide eyes as if he couldn't believe 'fun' was the word she'd decided to use while they watched Nebula try to terrorize his fellow victor.

The group of them headed in toward the palace, and already, Quill was making use of the fact that Gamora was _clearly_ enjoying the Nebula-Logan show, as he'd placed one of Pym's bugs at the gazebo already and was keeping an eye out for other places while Nebula continued to study Logan like a science experiment, her head tipped to one side as she moved on to trying to hold his hand for a reaction and looked downright disappointed when there was not only no obvious shudder, but no hesitation to take her hand and go along with it.

"You look so calming with a man at your side," Gamora teased her sister's way as her own efforts — an arm around Quill's waist — got a little jump of surprise from the distracted blonde. "So very… approachable."

"Is that what you were hoping for with yours?" Nebula shot back. "You look downright matronly these days with him twitching at your side."

"It's no _failing_ that I know how to intimidate even killers," Gamora said with a wide smile. "I can always give you pointers, if you need them."

"Clearly, you have the easier one to deal with," Nebula replied with an appraising look toward both men.

"Making excuses already, sister? We haven't even seen the rabid press and already you have your story in mind as to just why you have lost your edge," Gamora said with a clear tone of amusement as they made their way into the palace, with Quill trying to place as many bugs as he could before Nebula decided she was done being the butt of her sister's joke.

"Why don't we drop in on our brother at his office?" Nebula suggested all at once when nothing she was trying seemed to faze Logan in the slightest. They were only ten minutes into their walk through the palace, and already, it was clear she wanted backup.

"He's going to meet us outside later — unless you want to corroborate your excuses with him so _someone_ believes you," Gamora said with a wide grin.

"I didn't realize we were beholden to anyone, especially not those sniveling animals waiting for scraps at our gates," Nebula said with a sniff, her head held high. "We set our own schedule, do we not? Or are you so comfortable with your public image that you've forgotten what _real_ intimidation looks like?"

Gamora just glared a bit before she tipped her head down one hallway. "Lead on, then, sister. Scurry off to hide in our brother's shadows for help."

Logan glanced Gamora's way with the slightest of raised eyebrows before he turned back to Nebula with a ghost of a smirk.

The blue-skinned princess was already leading the way down the hall, almost at a trot. "Tell me, _boy_ , did you ever hear tell of our hidden playground? It would be a shame to hear the rumors didn't reach as far as we meant them too," she said Logan's way.

"I've heard, but I never put any stock to rumors," he replied easily. "Considering that half the Sentinels in Seven try to scare the smaller kids with stories of dragons."

"Really, imaginary beasts when there is plenty to be told in reality," Gamora said with a little laugh.

"The winters are long," Logan replied with a little shrug. "Can only tell the same stories so many times before they don't carry any water."

Gamora just smirked to herself as the group made its way deeper and deeper into the palace. Quill had never been to this area before, either, so he was trying to bug as many hallways as he could, especially since Gamora was clearly distracted watching her sister fume — though the descent down a set of stone stairs changed the entire timbre of their surroundings very suddenly. The moment they went underground, it was all stone and steel and very little decoration to hide a bug in.

Still, that was what Quill focused his attention on — finding bugging spots — because the further they went, the more they could hear quiet whimpering of some poor soul and the more Quill just wanted to bolt. Gamora had her attention back on him a bit now as it was clear he was quietly losing his cool. The fact that he was trying to look anywhere _but_ at the cells just seemed more like an avoidance tactic than anything else — which it was, in addition to a desperate search for more spots to hide their surveillance. If he could just focus on the mission — that was just about the only thing getting him through these required visits to Thanos' house of horrors.

To Nebula's supreme irritation though, Logan still looked as if they were simply walking through the gardens, relaxed and at ease.

The sound of both women's heels on the stone floor had clearly announced their arrival, though, and it wasn't long before Ronan came striding around the corner, half a smirk on his face as he wiped his hands clean on a black piece of cloth. His smirk only widened when he saw the group of them there. "Did you convince our father to let us play with them, then? Or is this something as boring as a _social_ call?" he sneered Nebula's direction.

"It's a social call _for now_ ," Nebula replied before she looked over at Logan, her smirk gone when he simply turned to hold her gaze without flinching. "We'll see how the evening progresses."

Ronan sneered her way once more, looking over first Logan and then Quill as the two men had markedly different reactions to his dungeons. "It's _ever_ so pleasing to find oneself the second choice for an evening gone wrong," he said loftily.

"It's _her_ evening in jeopardy, not mine," Gamora said with a satisfied smirk.

"Not entirely," Nebula said, looking Logan over once more. "Perhaps… this one breaks differently. He is nearly non-responsive. Or maybe your dungeons aren't what they used to be."

"Things have been disappointingly slow," Ronan replied with a bit of flash to his eyes.

Gamora smirked, clearly entertained watching the two of them fall back on excuses so quickly when challenged — as usual. "Yes, our father isn't sending nearly the same number to your domain."

"Yes, though I've still been at work while you two play at normal lives and smile for cameras," Ronan shot back. "When was the last time you _did_ anything?"

"Manual labor is the purview of lesser people," Gamora said with a sniff. "Feel free to give us a demonstration, though. It's always amusing when the _help_ gets involved."

"Perhaps it's time that we bring your current choice for a bridegroom in to look around," Ronan shot back in nearly a snarl, his glare centered on his sister even though he had stepped toward Peter. "He'd likely spend more time down here being useful than you ever have."

Peter let out an almost pained sort of noise at that, stepping back as much as he was able with Gamora's hand at his back stopping him from going too far, which had Gamora smirking as she said, "Yes, this may just be true — leave the men to their tactile obsessions. Obviously, they need it."

But at seeing Peter's reluctance to move forward, Ronan took a few steps forward to put a hand on both young men's shoulders and guide them both inside, though it was clear who was tense and unwilling to go along as Ronan seemed to relish explaining just exactly what each room was used for — and what kind of prisoners were his favorite.

"Selene was here for a while," Ronan told Logan just to look for a reaction as he gestured to a cell near his office. "She had no tolerance for pain. So disappointing."

"I can honestly say I'm surprised," Logan said in an even tone. "I was sure she was a masochist."

"Oh, she could take taunting, emotional pain, mental torment, but the tactile…sensory overload ..." Ronan glanced toward Gamora with a wicked grin, though she wanted clarification — not her brother's flash.

"What makes you think she was a masochist?" Gamora asked with narrowed eyes.

Logan frowned a bit and shrugged lightly. "She had scars on her wrists," he said with his eyes narrowed a bit. "Around the whole way. Tried to cover it with gaudy bracelets. Thought it was something she did on purpose."

Ronan just seemed delighted by his eye for detail. "Yes, she did at that," he agreed. "But there are other methods of pain that are not nearly so… pedantic."

"I'm sure," he said with a nod, turning Ronan's way, though he still kept his relaxed stance.

Ronan just raised an eyebrow at Logan for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face before he turned to Peter. "I usually start my assistants at a low level, bringing the prisoners in, that sort of thing," he said to the clearly uncomfortable victor. "You _can_ do that much, yes?"

"Uh..." Peter swallowed hard. "Yeah. If that … if that's ever a thing that I have to do."

"Good." Ronan smirked a bit. "Three years is too long a break before you get your hands dirty again. I'm sure I'll see you here again soon."

"Perhaps after the Quarter Quell," Gamora mused thoughtfully.

"That would be a good time for an announcement, _sister,_ " Nebula said with a smirk that fell slightly when Gamora reacted in exactly the opposite way she had expected.

"Or a ceremony," Gamora said, smiling even wider when Peter just… stopped cold at the suggestion. "While the next victor is recovering, perhaps, yes?"

"A more interesting interlude than usual," Nebula agreed, recovering as she turned her attention from the more difficult target to Peter — who had gone as white as a sheet. "Though I doubt you'd do well in white."

"Never," Gamora said, making a face.

"We should probably _all_ head back upstairs," Nebula suggested as she reasserted her grip and pulled Logan a bit closer. "You know how Father hates to wait."

Ronan looked disappointed that the terrorizing wouldn't continue in his dungeons, but the fear of Thanos ran deeper than anything else in the palace, so it wasn't long at all before all five were seated in one of Thanos' dining rooms, along with a few other well-to-do citizens, before the president himself finally made his appearance.

Everyone in the room stood until Thanos was seated at the head of the table, and Logan didn't miss the fact that the president studied him a bit more closely than the others, and he simply couldn't help but to meet the man's gaze with as neutral an expression as he was able to hold.

The two victors were seated near the head of the table, with Gamora on Thanos' right and Ronan on his left. Logan was between Ronan and Nebula, while Quill was across the table from Logan looking distinctly like he was about two seconds from shutting down — or bolting. It was hard to tell. The last member of the group at the head of the table, beside Quill, was a businessman named Justin Hammer, who looked exceedingly nervous at the seating arrangements, even more so than Quill — an impressive feat, all things considered.

The table was entirely silent as they were all clearly giving Thanos a wide berth, and when the president spoke, he addressed the quivering Hammer directly. "The deadline on your most recent contract was extended. This is the third time in as many months," Thanos said, his tone conversational but his expression clearly annoyed.

"It's, ah — it's unavoidable, I'm _truly_ sorry to say," Hammer said, his voice shaking slightly, trying to keep his tone friendly and failing miserably at acting as though he was on the same level as anyone else in the room. "Our scientists and researchers have been working _around the clock_ , but the tech … it's just … we're not there yet. It's not possible." He laughed almost nervously under his breath as he tried to cover for his failing.

But no one at the table was laughing with him, and it wasn't long before Hammer simply cleared his throat and tried to recover as best he was able. "I really thought we'd be there by now," Hammer continued as all eyes were on him.

"And yet all you have to show for it are empty promises," Thanos said without even bothering to look Hammer's way when it was clear he wouldn't get any _real_ answers out of the businessman. "Remind me why we signed with you and not Stark."

"Ah… The technology doesn't exist yet. But it's not just us … no one else has it either," Hammer said. "And Stark has been distracted this year — he wouldn't hit a deadline if you stamped it on his forehead."

As Hammer squirmed, Logan began to watch him a bit more carefully, his head tipped ever so slightly as he took in the man's finer details — the light sheen of sweat on his upper lip, the increased pulse in his throat — he knew he was in trouble.

"Convenient for you," Thanos said. "And yet here I am, thinking that a man in the depths of grief would do a better job than a supposedly unfettered _equal_ here in my dining room. Remind me again why you haven't met our deadline. And attempt this time to leave out the simpering…. pitiful sniveling and excuses. They bore me."

"It's just not possible at this stage," Hammer said, shoving his hands under the table to hide the tremor. "And… we ….we haven't had the breakthrough we need, but we're close. We're _so close_ I can feel it. It's just ..."

Hammer continued to flounder, and Logan's attention went from Hammer himself to the assistant at his side. She looked as if she was actively trying to be smaller than she was, her shoulders shrugged up to her ears as she tried to melt into her seat. It wasn't until he put the pieces together and held his breath for just a moment that Logan knew what was going on with the two of them. Logan's features all relaxed, and he sat back slightly, no longer caring to listen to Hammer's sad excuses. No amount of questioning would get any different answers out of Hammer.

"What do you think, Logan?" Gamora asked suddenly, though it was Thanos who was watching him. "A nose for business like yours — surely you have an opinion on the matter."

"I try not to have an opinion on much," Logan replied.

"Then hazard a guess," she replied easily. "To satisfy my curiosity. What do you think, Hammer? Our newest victor from Seven thinks himself a businessman."

Relieved to have the president's hot gaze off of him for the time being, Hammer was quick to join her. "I'm sure he was good at selling logs and wood furniture," Hammer said, giving Logan an appraising sort of glance.

Logan's gaze locked onto Hammer, and he narrowed his eyes the slightest. "I was a cutter, not a salesman, actually," Logan said evenly. "But if I was pressed … I'd say you're waiting for your assistant to bring the tech designs back from Stark."

Hammer gaped at him as his assistant tried to look even smaller. "You don't know anything," he blurted out quickly, reflexively.

"I know that she was in the tech pages two weeks ago in Stark Labs," Logan said before he gave him the tiniest of smirks. "I don't know how to sell, but I do know how to read."

Hammer glanced over at the royals at the head of the table and paled to a color that was somehow more deadly than anything Peter had earlier reached at the discussion of upcoming nuptials. "That… that was just before I hired her. Companies poach employees all the time — I just gave her a better offer is all," he tried to cover, though the shake to his voice and the quivering lower lip of his assistant spoke volumes.

"A little bit of industrial espionage, perhaps," Nebula said in what sounded like a conciliatory tone. "Perfectly normal in your industry."

Hammer was sweating even more obviously. "This … this doesn't have anything to do with my contracts. It's just a personnel issue." He was wearing a little smirk that no one believed as he tried to keep the focus on how terribly wrong Logan was.

"Except of course that you knew Stark was developing that tech when you bid the contract," Ronan said with one eyebrow raised as he leaned forward, his hands folded in front of him. "You've never had it."

"He doesn't have it either," Hammer said, getting more agitated and nervous by the second. "It's just — you have to — I was just checking on the competition!"

"Competition implies a back and forth," Nebula said with a shrug before she turned to Logan, half leaning into him with a smile, her tone almost a purr. "When was the last time Hammer developed anything before Stark? Remind me."

Logan frowned slightly and shook his head. "I wasn't aware that they had. At least, that's the way that it reads. I could be off — seeing as I'm just out in the trees."

"No, that's accurate by my count," Thanos said with almost a smile as he turned his full attention to Logan. "One final question, boy. Should I allow Hammer to finish his meal, or my son to amuse himself now?"

Peter straightened up, wide-eyed, and shook his head the slightest bit in a clear signal, but Logan didn't see it, since he was busy holding Thanos' gaze. But Logan's composure didn't slip as he drew in a measured breath to reply. "I wouldn't begin to assume to know the answer to that one, sir."

Thanos looked satisfied with that before he simply turned and smirked Hammer's way. "The dessert should be delicious. I understand the fruit for the tarts is in prime season," he said simply before the servants started to bring it out and Hammer looked like he had lost all of the blood in his face, simply unable to even touch the food in front of him. His assistant wasn't any better and was actively crying by that point.

Thanos excused himself as soon as he had finished, though Ronan didn't make a move, just watching Hammer stare at his slowly melting tart before the two princesses excused themselves as well — to step outside the ground and be seen, in passing, with the victors they had invited to the show.

After the strange events of dinner and all the flashing lights of the cameras, it was a slightly jarring experience being unceremoniously left at the gate the moment the press had been shooed off. The two women turned on their heels and stalked back up to the palace without even a backward glance, with both men standing outside the locked gates on the other side.

"You gonna be alright, Quill?" Logan asked as they put some distance between themselves and the palace. "You look like you might need a bush."

Peter was indeed very green and just nodded the slightest bit, glancing over his shoulder almost convulsively until he was convinced no one was watching them anymore before he found a corner and emptied his stomach of everything they'd just had in the palace.

"You really aren't up to this are you?" Logan asked as he kept watch for Quill, keeping away from anything that might be considered the splash zone.

"No," Quill moaned. "No I'm not. Ask me to steal something, I'm your guy. This — this is…" He turned away and retched again, his stomach long empty but the nausea far from over.

"This is a matter of wills," Logan replied. "You never did any dares as a kid?"

Quill wiped his mouth and then turned toward Logan with a bit of a glare. "Course I did."

"You punk out this bad back then too?"

"Logan, I kissed the girls, I jumped off of crazy stuff, and I stole a Sentinel's handcuffs right out from under his nose. This is not that!"

"Then you didn't play the same kinda games I did," he said as he leaned forward a bit. "Let's get you back _to safety_ before someone comes lookin' for us or you draw a crowd."

"Can't you just kill me and leave me here? I'm fine with it, really," Quill muttered.

"Are you kiddin' me? I do that and I'll be up next to keep your woman company."

"No offense, but I'm totally fine with that," Quill said with a ghost of a smile as he finally pulled himself back to his feet, still pale but at least upright.

"Oh no — that one's all yours. Not gonna weep over the other one either. I don't think she liked me much."

"No, but the big guy sure did," Quill said, following Logan back down the street.

"Pretty sure I'm not his type," Logan deadpanned.

"Not what I meant," Quill said, rolling his eyes. "But don't be surprised if you get invited back for more… dinners. Probably not the stuff before, though. That was… I've never been down there and I'd be happy to never go back, thanks."

"Why would they bring us down this time if that's not part of their regular … game?"

"Because _you_ weren't nervous," Quill said, accusingly pointing a finger his way. "And that's their biggest weapon. Apparently. Except for..." He paused and looked green again. "Oh man," he said and doubled over, ruining the knees of the suit MJ made him when he hit the sidewalk.

"Get it together. We're not far off," Logan said, waiting for Quill to finish up again. "When we get inside, you can burn your suit. Unless it's got some sentimental value to it." He smirked a bit. "Sweetheart's first torture chamber visit. Probably not the last, seein' as your future brother-in-law's pushing to make you his errand monkey."

"Stop. You're not funny," Quill muttered.

"Makes you wonder what kinda kinky wedding gifts she's looking forward to."

"You're _not funny_ ," Quill said, looking green all over again. But Logan was clearly entertained.

"You gonna have Drax as your best man? He'd be real good paired up with Nebula. Conversation would be priceless on its own."

Quill managed a small smile at that. "Or Groot. Just let him stand there and watch her try to get anything out of him."

"Only if he brings Rocket with him," Logan added. "That trash panda is where his whole party is."

"Yeah, I think I finally got him to warm up to me this year. He bit me when I first won," Quill said with a little smirk.

"He growled at me when I met him, but the damn thing drinks beer," Logan told him. "Hates Creed too."

"Well, he's smarter than … should be normal, actually," Quill said as they rounded the corner and could see the Triskellion, and just having a destination that was even remotely considered 'safe' seemed to do wonders for Quill's ability to get the rest of the way there without watering any more bushes the hard way.

When they got inside the doors, they were quickly ushered to Fury, who was waiting with an expectant look on his face. "Well?" he spit out before the two of them could even cross the span of his office. But for as much as Peter had improved on the walk over, he still wasn't up to debriefing yet.

"Quill's engaged," Logan said. "And has a weak stomach."

"I want to thank you for that bus. Really," Quill muttered as he dropped into a seat and studied his shoes.

"You're welcome. But you have bugs everywhere now, including inside Ronan's playroom," Logan said as he took the seat next to Quill and pulled at his tie. "So. There it is."

Fury glanced toward Logan for a moment before he focused on Quill. "So when's the big announcement? Or are they going to do it as a surprise shotgun situation?"

Peter pulled off his suit coat and leaned back even further into the seat as if he was hoping i would swallow him. "Uh ... they weren't real clear on the announcement, but the… um…."

"Happy nuptials," Logan supplied.

"Yeah, that… that's during the victor recovery time for the Quarter Quell," Quill said, looking queasy again. "But I'm not getting a double wedding, that's for sure. Nebula hated her date," he said in a clear attempt to get the topic to _change._

"If I was a quiverin' mess, she'd have liked me about the same," Logan argued.

"Yeah, but the president'll probably start using you for all his business dealings," Quill shot back, jerking his thumb in Logan's direction as he gave Fury a significant look. "Human lie detector over here."

"Just doing my homework and keepin' my cool," Logan argued. "Not my fault the guy was a crummy liar."

"And making one heckuva first impression. Or… fifth impression. I dunno what number we're on."

"You're overselling it," Logan said with a little shake of his head.

"The dude _smiled_ , Logan!" Peter threw up both hands to illustrate how shocked he was. "I mean, granted, it was right before a death sentence, but still."

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and just let out a sigh. "Coincidence. And it sure as hell didn't have a thing to do with me."

"Don't lie, Logan," Peter said easily, leaning back a bit now that it wasn't _his_ royal problem being discussed. "You had Hammer sweating bullets, and I think Ronan was grinning again. Which is still weird."

"I didn't see that — it didn't happen," Logan argued.

"Calling me a liar, Logan?"

"You called me a lie detector, and I think you were delusional sitting that close to the center of attention. You were sweating nearly as much as Hammer was. Probably got the vapors."

"To be fair, I'd also just been informed I was getting married. _So_ not the same."

Logan tipped his head Quill's way. "You're right. My deepest condolences."

Quill just shook his head. "So when are we springing this revolution? Next week? Please?" he directed at Fury.

Fury looked between the two of them for a moment before he took a deep breath and finally spoke. "Not that fast," Fury said. "We have a few things that need to be done, and there is some final foundation work to be finished during the Quarter Quell, so I'm afraid you're going to have to take one for the team, Quill." Logan looked Quill's way with absolutely no mirth in his expression.

Quill just stared at Fury for a long time. "How long?"

"We'll get on it as fast as we can, but likely by the time the tour gets underway, if nothing goes wrong. There are a lot of black ops missions that need to be done ahead of time to pave the way, and that is going to hinge on my guys not getting killed in the process and blowing it for us."

Any trace of a smile was gone from Peter's expression as he asked, sullenly, "Sure you can't just kill me, sir?"

"You're going to _want_ to live through this," Fury told him. "Marriage or no."

"That's easy for you to say from that side," he muttered sullenly.

"This team is shaping up to be the best I've ever had," Fury promised.

"That's real comforting, sir. Can I go now?" Quill grumped.

"You can," Fury agreed. "We'll talk when you're less green."

"Great. Been nice knowing you; see you never," Quill said over his shoulder as he just half stomped off.

As soon as Quill was gone, Fury called out for Logan to hang back for a moment. "Watch your step with Thanos. If he _was_ happy with you, he'll try to find reasons to bring you back until he's come up with a reason to be _un_ happy with you. And we don't need that kind of heat this close to the first mission run of your new team."

Logan just nodded his head in agreement before Fury continued. "Your training schedule just got more intensive. Mornings with Ogun, Afternoons with me, and evenings will now be on a rotation of different trainers when you don't have other appointments. You have a lot to catch up on before you go in."

Logan frowned deeper at that and just headed out. Nothing positive in the schedule for any time in the foreseeable future.


	46. He Said, He Said

**Notes: We like to call this chapter "consequences." And "flirting." And "Kurt the Interrogator."**

* * *

 **Chapter 46: "He Said, He Said"**

* * *

 _February 22_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

When Skye arrived in the Tahiti wing, she had several newspapers tucked under her arm, though considering the front page news on just about all of them, she figured she should probably give the Awesomes (as Peter had been sure to tell her they were called) some kind of heads up. She knew that it would have been nice to have gotten a heads up herself, but no. That was not how that went down, and it was more than a little disturbing to have read them with no warning even for her. So for the Awesomes ….

She found Kurt first, fresh from sword training with Duquesne, and she caught him in the halls with her papers pressed to her chest so he couldn't see the front pages just yet.

"Okay," she said, sizing him up. He was taller than he had been when he was reaped, and she was pretty sure he could kill her at this point too — but she shook that off. She was pretty sure he wasn't a 'kill the messenger' type. "Okay, so ... remember how I said these articles are crap? You _have to remember_ that when you see the headlines, okay?"

Kurt frowned at her as he reached for the paper. "Why would you worry about that? I know."

"Maybe because as soon as I promised to be your paper girl, serious headlines started happening? And it is not cool. And just… okay, see for yourself." She gingerly handed over the newspapers like they were going to explode.

Kurt glanced at the picture, which showed both of the princesses with what the article identified as their 'dates,' though Kurt knew that couldn't be what they were, since the picture was of Logan and Peter Quill. Logan wasn't smiling in the least, though he looked downright relaxed next to Peter Quill, who looked like the world was ending. Above the picture was the headline _Royal Wedding Announced_.

"I swear to God I've never even _heard_ of someone with a poker face that good," Skye said, wide-eyed.

Kurt glanced up at Skye, who looked like she might bite through her bottom lip, before he read on, halfway dreading whatever was in the article — this wasn't something that could be easily dismissed as just gossip, clearly, and it already had him on edge.

 _Congratulations are in order for Gamora, daughter of President Thanos, and her longtime beau, Peter Quill, the twenty-first victor of the Avenger Games._

 _While rumors have circulated around the two of them for quite some time, it looks like the lovebirds have finally sealed the deal, not least because they have a perfect opportunity for a party with the 25th anniversary of the Avenger Games coming up in just a few months._

 _Sources close to the couple say it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, unsurprising with a victor known in his Games for off-the-cuff remarks and after his Games for causing a bit of trouble, though it's likely the 20-year-old's wandering eye will be severely limited once the wedding occurs._

 _It's unclear what prompted the characteristically spontaneous proposal, though sources credit a double date with the newest victor, James Howlett, with creating "just the right atmosphere."_

 _The president himself was informed last night and reportedly gave his blessing, though no official statement from his office has been made._

The rest of the article then delved into the history of Quill's Games and the chronicling of his 'relationship' with Gamora, though it ended with a blurb about Logan's own post-Games debauchery and the speculation on whether or not he was now being considered as a match for the younger princess.

"He's _not_ — I mean. Not Logan. Logan's not — that … that part of it's crap," Skye tried to explain in a rush, both hands held up in front of her when she saw that Kurt had finished reading. "I made Coulson swear it up and down just to be sure — among other things."

"What in the world was he doing with her?" Kurt asked in almost a whisper.

"Well, when you get invited to the palace, you don't really… say no. At all," Skye pointed out, looking incredibly apologetic, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Apparently, he … made some pretty big _waves_ last time he was in the Capitol."

"He's not actually _dating_ her," Kurt said, sounding properly insulted and holding the offending paper at arm's length. "He can't."

"Yeah, no, he's _definitely_ not dating her," Skye agreed quickly. "That's not a thing. At least, I'm 98% sure it's not a thing."

Kurt turned her way, looking a bit alarmed at the niggling doubt that hung on to her statement. But more important than that was the earlier bit of news. "What kind of waves did he make that got the royal's attention? You can tell me that much, can't you?"

"Well, I can't give you specifics, because honestly, I'm _still_ researching this myself — and Coulson won't tell me. If he even knows," she admitted in a low whisper.

"Will you please tell me if you figure it out?" Kurt asked in an almost urgent tone. "I'm sure you've learned by now that he gets himself into trouble much faster and far deeper than what should be possible."

"Yeah. It's like a superpower with that guy," Skye agreed with a bit of a smirk before she nodded Kurt's way. "A lot of my research is, like, way classified, so I can only promise I'll tell you as much as I _can_."

Kurt just gave her one of his most charming, almost sheepish smiles. "Who would I tell?"

"Coulson. You could tell Coulson. And then I would be in _trouble_ ," Skye pointed out. "And I happen to _like_ my job right now."

He waved her off, "Agent Van Helsing doesn't need to know everything."

Skye grinned widely at that. "Okay. _Why_ do you guys call him that? I need to know. For reasons."

Kurt smiled a little wider. "It's because Dr. Essex holds so many qualities with the dear old Count Dracula. And AC is our vampire hunter."

She was full-on beaming at that point. "I haven't met Essex _personally_ , so I wouldn't know, but I'll have you know, I'm going to have to find Coulson one of those hats now. With the wide brim? You know — from the movies."

"Please do, we haven't got the resources to give him one ourselves, and honestly—" He leaned in closer to whisper. "—I haven't spotted one on a mission, or it would have been done ages ago."

"Thief," she said, shaking her head at him.

"Pirate," he corrected her.

She just started to laugh at that, still shaking her head. "Okay, Captain Wagner — I'll do my best to let you in on what I find. But again, so far half of what I've found is redacted, and the other half… I'm not gonna assume it's true until I know, because if it is, I'm going to have to hit someone. And I know how to do that _really well_ now." She leaned in a bit with a smile. "I've been doing a little training myself, not just _teaching_ classes."

"I would hope that SHIELD keeps their agents well-trained, considering what we're doing."

"Yeah, but I've got a much better trainer than the first year or so I was with SHIELD," she said with an almost conspiratorial look in her eyes.

"What made them upgrade you?" Kurt asked as the two of them headed toward the classroom.

"The old trainer got his butt handed to him by his ex. It's a long, long story, but basically — traded the jerk out for May and an occasional tutor or two."

"Good," Kurt said with a nod. "If you ever get to swords, we could see if you could train with us sometimes. It's hard to get new opponents."

"I thought for sure that'd be a big hit. I mean, Bruce can fence, right? And I know in the Games you and Kate… Or, is it just not as fun as it looks?" Skye asked with one eyebrow raised.

"No, no — it is," Kurt assured her. "But you get to learn your opponents styles, and it's just nice to have a wider variety of fighters to work against."

"Makes sense," Skye agreed. "Sort of like how I like to test my mettle against different kinds of firewalls to stay sharp. Which, by the way, we'll be learning pretty soon, once I get you guys in shape," she teased as they finally got to the classroom.

* * *

 _Triskellion_

* * *

Skye was in a great mood. Her class with the Tahiti kids had gone very well, she thought. They were fast learners once they got the basic concepts, plus, she genuinely _liked_ hanging out with them.

Of course, the great mood was slightly curtailed by the niggling doubt — she wasn't entirely sure if she'd told Kurt the truth when it came to Logan and Nebula. She _hoped_ she'd told him the truth because that … no. that was not a good match. At all.

The problem of course was that there was no way for her to know for sure unless she talked to Logan. He _had_ said he didn't want to lie to her — if he could help it. She was just trying to figure out how she was going to find him when Coulson caught her just before she got to her office.

"How'd it go?" he asked, the beginning of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, you know. Smart kids — eager to do something to get Agent Van Helsing to smile …"

"Alright don't you start that too," he said, almost frowning as she grinned wider and began to bounce in place. She shifted closer and bumped him with her shoulder.

"Come on, AC, it's cute, and you love it," she said with a grin, refusing to stop picking at him until he gave her one of his driest 'not to be messed with' looks, and then she took a step away from him and shoved her hands in her back pockets. "Right."

"I have a job for you to do," he said. "But it can't wait."

"What is it?"

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what all it details," Coulson said. "But the file is in my office waiting for you."

"Figures," she muttered, frowning at her shoes for a moment as they headed toward Coulson's office. But when she stepped inside, she stopped short on seeing _Logan_ sitting there waiting for Coulson to return.

When he heard them enter, he marked his spot and closed the book he'd been reading and turned their way as they crossed the room.

"Almost done with that?" Coulson asked when he saw the spot marked in the book, but Logan frowned and looked down at it, only to shake his head.

"Just getting into it, really," he replied, though for as far back in the book his marker was, Coulson was the one frowning.

"Right. Well. I certainly hope you remember everything that you were supposed to have learned last time. You two have a lot of turf to cover," Coulson said as he stepped out of the office to leave them to it. "Door open."

But when Skye looked over her shoulder, she was sure that she saw Fitzsimmons skittering around the corner, and May was openly standing in the open door across the hall with her arms folded over her chest. Watching.

She cracked open her laptop and while it was starting up, she walked back to the windows and closed the blinds at _least._ She paused, looked May's way, and then decided _to heck with it_ and went ahead and closed the door anyway. It wasn't their business anyway.

"So," she said, dropping down into her seat and trying not to betray how pleased she was that Coulson had literally just dropped the opportunity to get her answers into her lap. "What the heck is going on with you and _Nebula_?"

"Nothing," came the defensive answer, but then he paused. "Why? You hear something?" Logan asked, this time with a suspicious frown.

"Uh, yeah," she said, rolling her eyes. "It was all over the news this morning."

"You're putting too much stock in the news," he replied, setting his book aside.

"Which I would normally agree with you on, but the fact remains…" She leaned forward onto her elbows with her arms crossed. "There's this thing called a camera. Dunno if you've seen one, but they capture images."

He let out a little 'huh' and leaned forward to match her. "Yes. I'm aware of such high-falutin' devices. It's crap."

Skye rolled her eyes and spun the laptop to show the pictures from the announcement. "Uh-huh."

He let out a long breath. "You want my side of the story then."

"Please."

"Fine. About a week ago, I was told to break up with Jubilee and show up at this ... " He waved his hand at the screen. "Thing. Which was pretty damn stupid, since we weren't … _dating_ anyhow."

Skye frowned. The setup didn't exactly sound like something she could bring back to Kurt and say that she hadn't lied to him. "So … what? You went on a double-date?"

"Apparently," he said with a shrug. "She wasn't too interested though, thankfully."

"So you two are _not_ a thing," Skye said, one eye shut.

"I sure as hell hope not," he replied. "Not like Quill wants to be where he is, though."

"I don't ...really know him, but I can't imagine anyone _wants_ to be there?" Skye said, pushing her hair behind her ear. She knew the gossip around the Capitol that Quill was trying to date dangerously or whatever, but she also knew that nobody who looked like _that_ in an engagement picture could be happy about it.

"The sisters decided on the wedding. He was not consulted." He tipped his head to the side. "So. As far as I know … No. The Nebula thing ... it's not happening."

Skye let out a breath she hadn't realized she had to let out and then nodded. "Alright. Just checking. I don't tutor insane people."

"Yeah, that's … not real reassuring, seeing who it is you work for."

"AC's alright," Skye said with a crooked smile.

"Yeah, but his boss is a pain in the ass that was happy with how … that — _thing_ — went."

"Happy?" Skye repeated, both of her eyebrows high on her head. "Hap- you can't be serious."

"I am."

" _Why_?"

"I have a few theories, none of 'em nice."

"Does one of them include sadism, because one of them should definitely include sadism."

"All of 'em do, actually," he agreed with a very tired sort of almost-smile.

"That's just… not the SHIELD I know," she muttered, crossing her arms. "I mean… not with Coulson's team anyway…."

"Rumors around the mill say that Coulson's team is full of cream puffs," he said, trying to shift the subject matter.

"Well… two and a half cream puffs, but you can't blame the scientists for being too full of science and not enough … anything else," Skye said with a fond sort of smile.

"They the ones trying to sneak a peek then?" he asked, tipping his chin toward the door.

"Yep," she said, shooting a glare toward the blinds to accentuate the point. "That's Fitzsimmons."

He nodded at that and then slumped down in his chair a bit. "So. Was the purpose of this whole thing you gettin' after me about something I got no control over or …"

She straightened quickly and flushed. "No, right — yeah. There's an actual lesson here. I just… I had to get the facts straight, because I could _not_ let that news just… sit there. In the open. With so, so many unanswered questions." She pulled up a program on the laptop as she spoke, tucking her hair behind her ears again.

"Rest easy," he said. "For whatever it's worth — I got no interest in any of the royals in any capacity."

"I'd be interested in kicking their butts, but that's just me," Skye muttered half to herself.

He raised one finger to his lips and shook his head. "Never out loud, baby agent."

"In AC's office, lumberjack man."

"Like I'm going to trust that."

"I trust Coulson," she defended.

"Doesn't mean everyone does. Particularly those whose asses you wanna kick."

She scrunched up her whole face at him and then pointedly pushed the laptop his way. "Here," she said, very clearly, "is the program I was asked to teach you that will get past the palace security." She smirked. "And the next lesson, grasshopper, is the program that turns off all the surveillance. Even Coulson can do that one."

"Figured cuttin' the wires would be quicker," he muttered.

"Cutting the wires lets people know you were there. Do this one right and it looks like a glitch."

"Right. A glitch that leaves bodies in its wake."

She smirked. "It's a very big glitch."

He shook his head and gestured for her to get started.

* * *

It was hardly even a full minute after Logan had left and Skye was packing up her laptop before Fitz came in with a hard look and his hands on his hips, and she just grinned up at him. "Hey, Fitz."

"So … that was an awfully long 'lesson'," Fitz said with his arms crossed. "What took so long?"

She shrugged. "We didn't start right away."

"Oh, really?" Fitz asked, leaning forward with that same hard look. "What were you doing that took so long to get started?"

"Um, asking about the whole 'I was there for the royal engagement' story? Because… seriously, Fitz. You can't tell me you weren't curious too."

"Well — what's the story?" Fitz asked, straightening up.

"Apparently, neither of them knew a thing. The princesses cooked up the _whole_ engagement themselves," Skye said, pulling a horrible face.

"Then … he's _not_ off the hook then," Fitz pointed out. "If the princesses are making decisions like that."

Skye blew out her breath. "Well… yeah, but…" She pulled on the end of her hair. "He said she really didn't like him much."

"True, but … if the orders I got from Fury's office mean anything, _someone_ liked him."

Skye spun in place. " _What_ orders?" she asked, suddenly thinking of Logan's sadism theories all at once.

"While you were 'teaching', I was _actually_ showing Peter Quill how to work the new bugs," Fitz said. "And that man can tell a story."

Skye grabbed hold of Fitz's arm and pulled him into Coulson's office, slamming the door shut beside them. "Spill."

Fitz grinned at her. "Why, Miss Skye … I don't know if I can share things learned in confidence …"

"Spill or I'll find Quill myself, and then you'll just be sitting there with no real secrets and the broken trust of your teammate," she ordered, one finger leveled at him.

"Alright, alright. No need to get so pushy," Fitz said, almost recoiling from her but still smiling. "They had dinner with Thanos."

She stared at him for a moment wide-eyed. "Well. He left that part out."

Fitz looked both ways as if he'd see someone lurking to catch him before he leaned closer and gave her a very quick version of events. "It was some kind of test, apparently, and by Quill's retelling, they _liked_ him. He said all three of them were smiling — and Thanos too. For what it's worth."

Skye narrowed her eyes. "Um. That is _not_ what he told me," she said grumpily.

"What did he tell you, then?"

"That Nebula wasn't happy with him," she grumped. "Liar." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and let out a breath.

"Well, he did say that Nebula wasn't _interested_ in him," Fitz said.

Skye did a very good impression of someone who wasn't relieved to hear it. "But you said they liked him?"

"They set him up to see if he had gotten lucky when he busted out Selene Gallio," Fitz said. "But it wasn't a one-time deal. Watch the papers for Justin Hammer."

Skye's eyes widened, but she nodded. "I'm going to have to," she muttered.

"What difference does it make, really?" Fitz asked, clearly fishing. "Unless it interferes with what he's _supposed_ to be doing in these so-called 'lessons'."

"It makes a big difference," Skye argued. "It doesn't matter who it is — people shouldn't — I mean, those evil royal pains shouldn't dictate _anyone's_ — just — ugh."

"So … which one are you more angry over?" Fitz asked, smirking in the most obnoxious manner.

Skye rolled her eyes at him. "All of it," she insisted. "Just… all of it."

"So you _don't_ want to interrogate Quill too — to make sure he's alright then? Perhaps we can line up a few others for you to fiddle with as well."

"Fitz." She turned his way with the driest look she could manage.

"I'm just saying … if you're going to continue to run your _evening lesson_ well past dinnertime, we might have to arrange something for you …"

Skye could feel how bright her face had turned as she stuck her finger in Fitz's chest. "I… am perfectly professional, thank you _very_ much!"

"Oh, yes. Perfectly professional. We could all tell that from the _whiskey_ last time. But that'll never happen again, right?"

"That was _totally_ different," Skye insisted. "That — we got snowed in, and there was literally no way I _could_ teach him anyway. It's not a crime to be _social!_ "

"Right. Too distracting an environment."

"I'll have you know he knows his way around all the back doors I taught him no problem. I'm a _great_ teacher. Totally professional." She drew herself up. "Besides. Even if I _am_ mad on Peter Quill's behalf, which I am, because I'm not a _monster_ , it's not like I can _do_ anything about it — and Logan's just — not that far in."

"I guess for his sake we can just hope you're right then," Fitz said, finally letting her off the hook.

"No kidding," she agreed, shaking her head before she purposefully went for a change of subject. "So… I'm starving. Help me scrounge leftovers?"


	47. Questions and Answers

**Notes: We slowed down a little bit in the updating because of some exciting new obligations! The original work that inspired this side fic,** _ **In The End You Always Kneel**_ **, officially has its sequel up now,** _ **When Blood Calls For Blood**_ **. While that universe has the DC characters twist that we're ignoring in this one, it's still amazing. Robbie and CC were asked to take it over at the end of May, because the guy running it had to step back for personal reasons, so we're hoping to turn it into something amazing like this fic right here. Check it out! It's on The Freelancer Collaboration's profile!**

* * *

 **Chapter 47: "Questions and Answers"**

* * *

 _February 24_

 _Fury's Private Training Room_

* * *

Skye's first lesson with Logan had gone well, and she was enjoying the chance to teach again. It was nice having him around to practice her interrogation skills with. And to get more solid answers about things for the TAHITI kids was nice too.

In fact, the only thing cramping her fun was the simple fact that she knew he was constantly training — and she knew it couldn't be just with Fury. No way the Director could keep going all day like that. The curiosity was killing her.

So when she heard Coulson telling May he wanted her to go peek in on the training her favorite student was doing … she _had_ to tag along. May, of course, just gave her a dry look when she approached, but knowing all that she did, she didn't argue with letting Skye join her.

"It might be good for you to see how easy you have it with me for your trainer," May told her, which of course, had Skye laughing a bit — until she saw what was going on in the training room.

It was pretty clear that Logan had just gotten done with some kind of drill, as he was already breathing heavily and was trying to quickly catch his breath as he took a few steps back.

"For private training there sure are a lot of guys in here," Skye whispered to May, who just frowned a bit deeper as Ogun shouted out his commands in Japanese, only for Logan to answer him with a soft but definite ' _hai_ '.

"They've been at this for a while," May said softly, her lips pursed in obvious disdain for the way this was going. "It looks like they should be stopping, not doing another drill."

Ogun was just across the training room, his hands folded lightly over the hilt of his sword as Logan watched him.

" _Konkai wa watashi o kōgeki shite mite kudasai_ ," Ogun said toward Logan in a voice much stronger than his frail-looking body should hold.

Logan took a deep breath to steady himself, and, with his eyes locked onto his teacher, he began to rush forward. Not quite halfway there, two men attacked him from either direction. He barely acknowledged one in time to dodge his attack, but the other … he nearly walked right into.

Ogun just watched passively as his assistants started out strong, beating the boy down, but that didn't last nearly as long as the old man had anticipated, though Logan's attackers had the edge by both sheer numbers and training … dodging his angry blows and answering them with plenty of their own.

" _Anata wa watashi no jikan o muda ni shite iru,_ " Ogun stated calmly over the din of the fight before him. But Logan couldn't answer as he tried to block the attack from the men around him. "Use what I taught you or take your beating, _gaijin_." Switching to English — even for a moment — seemed to have infuriated the old man as he was on his feet and looking murderous.

Logan ducked as a foot flew at his head, but one of the others hit him in the kidneys when he did. A punch to his side was enough to get him to focus a bit, and when he did, he cut right through the closest man with a kick to his solar plexus. Ogun smiled to himself as his newest charge finally started to do as he'd been told. He worked quickly and viciously, breaking down his assailants two at a time with devastating hits. But once Logan had cleared the men that had been fighting him, he didn't get to make any more progress before more men came out to attack from hidden panels near the walls.

Ogun just watched as this wave came at his student with wooden swords, earning themselves some distance from the angry but increasingly focused young man.

The strikes from these men left him with angry, raised red welts and threatened to break his focus, but after dodging effectively, he quickly disarmed one of them and took up his sword as he attacked the others.

The more viciously he fought, the more pleased Ogun looked until there simply were no other men standing to fight.

Logan was out of breath, his body ached, and he was bleeding freely from cuts on his cheekbone and on his arm from a sharp edge where one of the wooden swords had broken the skin.

He lowered the wooden sword as Ogun picked his up. " _Anata wa owatte inai_ ," Ogun snapped just before he attacked. Logan barely got his sword up in time to block the blow as the old man himself came after him in his full fury. Every blocked strike backed Logan up a step across the room until he was nearly at the opposite wall.

He blocked the kick Ogun aimed at his side but left himself open for the sword to come down and strike his wrist at just the right angle to force him into dropping his weapon.

Before he could recover, Ogun hit him again with the edge of his hand just below his Adam's apple and followed it up with an elbow to the side of his head and a knee to his gut. Logan's hand went to his throat as he fell to his hands and knees, earning him a kick in the ribs as well.

" _Gādo o mamotte kudasai_ ," Ogun warned as he turned his back to the gasping young man and calmly walked away.

As Ogun left, Logan took a long moment to catch his breath and compose himself as he sat back on his heels, eyes closed and not acknowledging the two women that had entered midway through his test. He rubbed his hand across his throat and very shakily got up on his feet again, then simply walked out of the room the opposite way that Ogun had gone so he could clean up before his next training session with Fury.

"That… that's not training," Skye muttered with a deep frown, and May beside her let out a breath.

"It is for Master Ogun," she said, though when she glanced over and saw the look on Skye's face, she shook her head and pulled her arm around Skye to direct her out of the room. "I know that look. Not here."

Skye had settled into a disbelieving glare at where Logan had disappeared, and May was still half watching her out of the corner of her eye. They'd only made it about half of the way down the hall before Skye just couldn't stay silent anymore.

"That was a _beat down_."

"Yes, it was," May agreed.

"That _wasn't_ training."

" _Yes_. It was."

Skye glared at May at that, her arms crossed over her chest and her hip cocked to one side. "What? No, it wasn't, Agent May. Don't give me that … that _line_ ," she insisted, her eyes narrowed at May. "That was brutal!"

May just let out a breath. "That's just the way Ogun teaches."

"No. That was not teaching. That's the way he lets out his _sadism_ ," Skye insisted.

"That too," May had to admit, because she'd had the exact same thought, and there was no sense in arguing the point.

Skye just glared at her out of the corner of her gaze for a moment before she let out all her breath. "Well, it's stupid."

"Yeah, it is," May had to agree.

"Aren't you going to do anything to stop it?" Skye spun on her heel to face the older woman, still looking rather livid.

"No," May admitted. She watched Skye get even more upset at the answer before she added, carefully, "Ogun is very selective about who he teaches. It may not look it, but the training Logan's getting… it's the best he could possibly receive."

"SHIELD is supposed to _protect_ people, not … arrange to have the crap beaten out of them," Skye grumbled. "This isn't right."

May let out another long breath and just had to nod before she pulled on Skye's shoulders again and continued to steer her. "Come on," she suggested. "Let's stop by the cafeteria. I think I'm in the mood for cocoa." She really wasn't, but she knew Skye wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else for a while, and the girl might as well have company — and chocolate, since that always seemed to help her refocus.

* * *

 _February 25_

 _Raft Prison, Undisclosed Location_

* * *

It had been one month since Charles Xavier had recommended that Natasha Romanoff be transferred to the secure Raft facility, and while he certainly had his hands full dealing with a panicked Peter Quill as well as a frustratingly uncooperative Logan, he had scheduled this visit almost the moment he signed the transfer papers. He was concerned for the young woman, and he hopeful to see if the isolation from Essex had done her any good.

The Raft prison was relatively new as well, erected in the coastal waters off of District Twelve's shores, where very few people would even think to look. It had only begun operations a few months ago, and that was what attracted Charles to it. There were few inmates so far, and all of the staff there had been hand-picked by Fury.

While Fury intended to use it to keep the most dangerous prisoners captive during the revolution — Capitol citizens who could give them information on the presidency, high-ranking enemy combatants, or high value assassins — Charles saw that it was a chance to ensure that Natasha had only SHIELD personnel around her and that she was solidly separated from Essex's influence. What's more, she couldn't leave the prison, even if she escaped her cell, because the facility was far enough out in the water that any such attempt would mean certain drowning or hypothermia from the cold North Atlantic waters. So there would be no unauthorized missions like the one in which she had shot Clint Barton.

It was his sincere hope that getting her away from Essex and limiting her contact with anyone associated with her past would allow her to get beyond her nearly pathological state, and when he arrived at the Raft with the director of SHIELD himself for backup, he had to admit that his hopes were high. Despite three breakout attempts early on, the reports on Natasha were otherwise encouraging — she had stopped demanding to be allowed to return, and she was even polite to the guards, though that was very likely an act. The girl knew how to manipulate people, and Charles knew that she could and would use every tool at her disposal to get what she wanted.

That was what Charles was there to determine — how much of her improvement was genuine and how much was designed to get herself back to the Tahiti wing, and by extension, her master — Essex.

The two men arrived at Natasha's cell with no fanfare, and in what was almost an automatic response for her, she primly rose up to go to the other side of her cell, apart from them, and to watch them enter, though she was at least not glaring openly.

"Miss Romanoff," Charles said with a released breath. "I am so sorry I wasn't able to schedule a visit sooner."

She blinked at him for a moment, measuring out her response before she went with, "You brought a friend," her head tipped in Fury's direction.

"Yes, the only way I could get in and out of this particular environment, I'm afraid — and a large reason as to why it took so long for me to come."

"You did that to yourself, you know," she pointed out, her gaze darting between the two of them. "You could have picked an easier location."

"I don't believe that I could _and_ find you still in place waiting for me when I returned to see you," Charles pointed out.

"I didn't make it to the outside; if the guards here are anything like elsewhere, you'd still have me," she said in an even tone.

"Well, I prefer to look at it as a bit of extra insurance," Charles replied. "But enough of that bit of misery. Aside from feeling trapped, which I do apologize for, how are you, my dear?"

"Fine," she said simply. "Restless and underused, but fine."

Charles tone started to slip into one a bit more soothing and low as he continued to talk to her, hoping that she would, with a bit of luck, relax a bit more. He started to tell her about Clint — and the fact that he was fully healed from his encounter and that after some work, his archery wasn't effected the slightest. Though hearing that his archery _had_ been effected, Natasha frowned — but it was the news about Clint more than anything else that got her to relax a bit. She was clearly glad not to have taken that from him, even if she didn't say a word and kept a careful check on her expression, watching Charles intently for any sign that he was lying.

He continued to talk about Clint, since that had gotten her shoulders to relax, and he began to tell her about how he was learning his way around security measures on computers, of all things, and refining his ability with swords. Though it almost irritated Fury, Charles truly wasn't expecting a response. He simply kept telling her how Clint was doing, carefully avoiding any mention of Kate or Bobbi while he did so. And finally, when he asked her to close her eyes for a moment, he nearly lost his smooth tone when she did exactly that.

He pressed forward, working on getting her to a more trancelike state before he started asking questions that he simply would not have led with.

"When you were a child, what was your greatest joy?" Charles asked, just to see where her mind was for sure.

"Ballet," she told him in a quiet, calm tone, causing both men to share a look. There was nothing in her files that said a word about dance. It had, in fact, looked as though the girl had always been pegged for Red Room training from birth. It was encouraging to see that it may not have been the case.

"Would you like to dance again?" he asked.

She looked thoughtful for a moment before she nodded.

"Then I'll be sure that you're given all you need to do that," Charles said with a little smile. "Who is your contact person from the Room?"

She frowned for a moment and looked at him with her head tipped to one side, but after a beat of silence, she told him at nearly a whisper, "Charles Windsor."

"Would you like to be rid of those people, Natasha?" Charles asked in his gentlest tone.

"If it were possible, maybe," she allowed, still wearing a bit of a frown.

"Of course it is," he said in an encouraging but still smooth tone. "And I'd love to help you with that. If you'll allow me to." He took a breath and watched her for a moment before he started to ask a string of questions on how she was controlled, all of which, Fury was recording. Once he knew the worst of it, he started to work on reversing what he could right there, though Fury was almost uncomfortable at the mention of the device near her heart.

"Do you have surgical facilities here?" Charles asked Fury, who simply nodded. "Natasha, I'd like very much for you to wake up at the count of three." He counted down, and the change in her was almost instant.

She glanced between the two of them with a deep frown before she shook out her shoulders, sitting up a bit straighter.

"A few medical doctors will be in shortly," Charles told her. "Please do not fight them."

"There's nothing wrong with me," she said, regarding him a bit suspiciously.

"Nothing but the device near your heart — which they will remove."

"In exchange for…?" She had turned her gaze from Charles to Fury now, clearly not trusting this open act of mercy.

"Nothing. I simply don't like that sword dangling over your head and coloring your thoughts."

She tore her gaze back to Charles and frowned his way. "Then you know about that — so you know I didn't want to shoot him," she reasoned carefully, unable to quite hide the quiet note of desperation to be believed.

"I had deduced as much," Charles replied gently. "And I'd like to make sure that you are not ever put in that position again. By anyone."

She looked almost like she believed him, but she kept glancing at Fury. "Because he's with SHIELD, and so are you two," she said carefully. "But you wouldn't mind using me for other missions. Be honest."

"I wouldn't mind keeping your skills from going to waste," Fury said. "But there is no way I'm going to allow you out of here and into enemy hands without your mind being your own."

"And if I don't pledge allegiance to SHIELD, march to your tune?" she challenged him.

"We'll see how far out of the Red Room you are before I answer that question," Fury replied. "But as it is right now? No. You're not going to go running off to rush back to them."

"Xavier said they were defunct," she told him with one eyebrow raised. "But they worry you. Impressive for an organization that doesn't exist, _da_?"

"They are defunct," Fury said, "But that doesn't mean you wouldn't nearly kill yourself trying to find what isn't there anymore." He turned to Charles and made a clear gesture that it was time for him to go. He watched Natasha while he waited to hear the sound of the doors closing behind him leaving Fury alone with Natasha for a moment.

"Ol' Charlie is good about making sure that no one gets their brains scrambled, but let me make myself clear. Be cooperative with him. Do _not_ try to cross me. And don't think that you can get away with your little tricks when it comes to me. You backslide? Look at me cross eyed? I'll dump your ass in that ocean and not look back."

She just met his gaze at that with something like a smirk. "That's the first thing you've said that I believe."

"I haven't lied to you yet, Miss Romanoff. And when I do, you won't know it."

"And believe it or not, I haven't lied to you either," she shot back.

"This time, no — you have not," he agreed. "Let's keep it that way." He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "See you soon, Miss Romanoff."

" _Do skorogo_ ," she replied with a little smirk.

* * *

 _February 28_

 _Triskellion_

* * *

When Skye arrived at Coulson's office, she was all grins as she hopped into the seat in front of his desk. "I like the new assignment," she announced to him. "Those kids are fun — and _so smart_."

"Well good, I'm glad to hear it," Coulson said with a nod. "As much fun as the remedial stuff is with your new class, you're going to have to step it up with your _other_ student. Fury's asking for a fairly intensive _daily_ session between his other training sessions in addition to the once-a-week evening session."

Skye glanced at Coulson for a moment and smirked a little bit with one eyebrow raised playfully. "Is this going to be a regular _daily_ thing, or is it targeted?" she had to ask.

"Honestly, a little bit of both," Coulson admitted.

"You mean Fury actually trusted you to _tell_ you something? That is like landmark news, AC," Skye teased.

"I told Fury he couldn't hijack my team members without telling me what they were up to," Coulson said, wearing an incredibly dry look. "You'll be working with Logan on a more focused regimen to start with to adjust for what we know about the target, then move to a broader brush for any other missions Fury has planned for him — provided all goes well with the first."

She nodded, though she couldn't help the frown, considering the fact that she _knew_ the 'target' was the palace, which was a much scarier thought when she actually had spent time with Logan and found out what kind of guy he was. Honestly, she wasn't too excited about that kind of heat coming down on him.

"Alright, I can do that," she agreed.

"Take another look at the new intel we got from the last mission inside and adjust whatever you need to make this infiltration seamless. Anything less will be an unmitigated disaster." Coulson gave her a dry smile.

"Yeah, don't want any disasters," Skye muttered. "Especially not in the big guy's place." She looked over the latest intel from Quill's bugs and had to shake her head. "They've updated a few things since the — ah — announcement, looks like. But they shouldn't be too hard to crack. Might even give my other class a shot at it — it would be good for them to stretch their legs," she mused out loud, not necessarily to Coulson but just speaking more or less to herself.

"Just keep encouraging them," Coulson said. "We won't expect that group to hit anything that serious. Though there's nothing I can do for your single student, it's my hope to keep the kids out of the worst of it."

"That would be good. They're adorable," Skye agreed with a little grin. "Gotta get your protective dad on, after all."

Coulson gave her a dry look. "You've got half an hour before your next class," he told her. " _Teach_. These new classes will be in Fury's office. It's a little more secure, and you won't have Fitzsimmons trying to peek through the blinds the whole time, which I'm pretty sure is more distracting to _you_ than it is your pupil." He paused and looked up at her again from his paperwork. "Oh — and you can bring newspapers down to the kids again. I think it's keeping Kurt on task."

"Which is ridiculous, considering I keep telling him those articles are _trash_ , but whatever," Skye said, waving her hand.

"He knows," Coulson said. "Believe it or not, he knows. But he's still worried about his friend."

"Should he be — should _I_ be?" Skye asked with one eyebrow raised. "Because I know it's all trash, but I also know just what kind of empire Logan tossed with Selene. I _saw_ the records, AC. I know what they're making the victors do when they pull them into the Capitol from home." She crossed her arms and gave Coulson her best glare.

Coulson let out a breath at that. "We tried for years to find a way around Selene. To shut it off. But the truth is — there has always been someone waiting in the wings to pick it right back up again. Yes, he should be worried. Logan has drawn attention from the one source we've been trying to avoid."

"Okay, so I'm gonna regret asking, but — who's that? Just …. for confirmation," Skye said, watching him with one eye closed.

"You know I'm talking about the royals," Coulson said quietly. "That was, in large part the reason for that farce of a double date."

"Yeah," Skye said, blowing out her breath as she thought of her conversation with Fitz.

"He handled it very well, though," Coulson said. "By _all_ accounts but his — and he says he didn't do anything noteworthy." He paused and tipped his head to the side a bit. "Which, I'm starting to think is as close to him taking credit for something good as we're going to get."

"Peter Quill getting married is good?" She looked a bit gobsmacked to hear that attitude from _Coulson_. Fury, maybe, but AC? _Really_?

"That's a different matter that was settled outside of the dining room before the big guy showed up — and unfortunately an expected risk, all things considered," Coulson said, sounding suddenly and incredibly tired. "But ... yes. That is a good thing for our operations."

She shook her head at Coulson all over again. "SHIELD has weird priorities. I've told you that, right?"

"Maybe once or twice," Coulson said with a smirk. "But it puts a man inside for us, and all things considered, it'll make him out of the reach of that program Selene was running."

"But not anyone else," Skye said with a frown.

"No, not yet," Coulson replied. "But it'll happen."

"Right." Skye blew out all her breath. "Okay, I'm going to go teach a refresher course now, and then … I don't know. Give me something to _do_ , Agent Van Helsing."

"Oh, don't start with that now," Coulson said with a laugh.

"I think it suits you. Peter showed me the picture he took on Pepper's tablet of that Valentine of yours," she said with a widening, troublemaking grin.

"Maybe you're spending too much time down there."

"Not enough time," she countered, still grinning.

"Oh? Do you need to switch it to daily?"

"If it means I get to help decorate the vampire slayer's office? Yes. Yes I do."

"Then consider today your new schedule."

But if Coulson was expecting her to balk, he got the opposite reaction as Skye just bounced slightly as she nodded. "Great. Step up the schedule, step up the revolution — and hurry up and get this stupid crap behind us, because seriously, Coulson, the more I learn about all the Games and the victors and stuff — the more I think we should've done this _years_ ago."

"You know what's really amazing is how _resilient_ our victors are," Coulson said with a grim nod. "They're going to be a force to be reckoned with when this gets moving." He paused and looked her way with a thoughtful expression. "You know, not one of them has stopped training since they got out of the Games?"

"That… doesn't surprise me," Skye said, losing her smile as she thought of it.

"Most of them have stuck to what they know — but a few have expanded their horizons a bit, like your friend from the train."

"Yeah, Rhodey and Bobbi were telling me about some of the training programs last time I was down in the 'program'," Skye agreed. "Rhodey's a pretty good medic, apparently. Same with Sam — I guess they train together on it."

"Quill is in the same category, believe it or not — though he prefers the fighter flights more."

"And then there's me, who crashed the flight sim when May tried to put me on it," Skye joked.

"Not everyone can be a pilot," Coulson laughed before he leaned forward to all but shoo her out. "Go on — trade lessons with your _student_. And keep it professional."

She just gave him a little grin that was a titch more embarrassed than usual before she ducked out with her updated files to refresh herself before she found Logan.

* * *

 _Fury's Office_

* * *

Skye had set up in the director's office a bit nervously. It wasn't something she'd been expecting to do — kick the director out of his own office — but once she got settled in, the door opened and Logan came through, clearly fresh out of a training session. If the red marks and bruising on his arms was anything to go by … it couldn't have been a fun one.

"We blowing anything up, or is it just … the same old?" Logan asked as he made his way over to take a seat.

She tore her gaze off the bruising and tried for a little smile. "Just a few updates. Your stupid double date has the royals all worked up and updating things like crazy. So _next time_ you go entertain the royals, it'll just make my job harder."

"Worst date ever," he agreed. "And it wasn't … I was _not_ doing anything."

"If you're going to lie to me, check your sources," she grumped.

"I'm not lying," he countered.

"Right, except Peter Quill says it was a test to look at your business sense."

"Quill says a lot of crap," he grumbled, waving one hand.

"I did a little research into Justin Hammer. Definitely not crap," she said. "And you told me they didn't like you!"

"I … _said_ she wasn't _interested_ in me. You were asking about the _date._ Not … generally speaking."

Skye waved both hands at him. "You didn't think the entire royal family being _happy_ about your visit was noteworthy?"

"No."

"What the heck _is_ noteworthy with you?"

"Well," he said with a little shrug. "Walking tour of the torture chamber was kinda noteworthy. Tipped the whole level of awful over the edge for sure."

She shivered at the mental image and looked down at her hands for a moment before she let out all her breath. "That… okay. We're just… we're not going to talk about that anymore. We're going to move on to making sure you don't get there the hard way and that you don't get caught, 'kay?" she told her laptop more than him.

"Ready when you are," he agreed.

With that, the two of them started running through some of what they'd done before, with the adjustments on what had changed while Logan pushed for a quicker pace just so he could see what he could remember without prompting. They were making good ground when Fury returned to tell them that their time was up.

"Next training session starts as soon as she grabs that computer and steps back," Fury said. "You'll be back same time tomorrow."

"Right, yes. Same time tomorrow," Skye agreed quickly, gathering up her laptop and notes so the director could have his office back. "Thanks, um, for the space."

She hadn't even gotten to the door before Logan and Fury just dove into it, and Skye had to pause for just a second because, well, that was Logan _fighting the director of SHIELD_ — but then she ducked out quickly when she realized they weren't holding much back and she didn't really want to get in the way of that. At all.

* * *

Logan and Fury sparred until Fury had gone as far as he could go, and then he held Logan back for a few words. "You have another trainer today. After me. Just wait a moment."

Logan quirked an eyebrow at the director until a few minutes later when his new trainer introduced himself.

"Logan, I'll be working with you for a few days, to start with." The speaker was a tall, muscular man that had Logan in height by a solid foot, but he seemed approachable — a helluva lot more approachable than Ogun, anyhow. "David North," he said as he extended his hand. "You ever disarm anyone?"

"Just with knives and swords," Logan admitted, his eyes narrowed a bit as he listened to the man talk. He had an accent … that sounded a lot like Kurt's.

"You can show me that later. Right now, I'm going to walk you through disarming a gunman." Logan took a deep breath and nodded. North walked across the room and opened up a black duffel bag to remove a handgun.

"Before we start, get familiar with it," North said as he handed him the weapon. "You'll need to know how to use it too, but that won't be today." He seemed almost cheerful as he raised his hands to about shoulder level in a sign of surrender. "Now … point the barrel at my head."

Logan checked the chamber and did as he was told. "Good. Smart to make sure it wasn't loaded. Now. Pay attention." He watched carefully, and in a flash, the gun was in North's hand pointed at Logan's temple, and Logan's arm was wrenched up behind his back. "Now … I'll go through it slow and it will be your turn."

He took his time going slow motion. "Left hand open, push the barrel away from your face. Grab it if you can. At the same time, right hand comes up to push my wrist the other way. No, don't grab with your thumb … keep it in line with your fingers. Good." The slow motion move walked him through it. "Now. Full speed."

Fury left with a bit of a frown. No one had started Logan on firearms that he was aware of, yet the boy already knew basic safety. For the time being, he didn't put much thought into it — he would be sure to look into it when he had nothing better to do — but for now, all it did was expedite the process, so he simply slipped out and let North get to work.

* * *

 _March 1st_

 _Underground Shooting Range_

* * *

Logan didn't have the time to think about anything but the task at hand. North had started him out hard and heavy once he realized Logan already knew how to shoot.

"Where did you learn how to fire a gun?" North asked in disbelief.

"Didn't say I knew," Logan tried to cover.

"You knew to check the barrel yesterday, and you knew how to load and handle the safety today. Spill it," North directed, his hands on his hips. But Logan still refused to say a word. "Spill it or I'll tip off Fury that there are defectors in Seven."

"Nothin' like that," Logan grumbled.

"Steal a gun from a Sentinel?" Logan hesitated just enough for North to catch on. "Right. You probably didn't need to, did you? Cousin, right? Did he show you?" Logan shrugged a bit, but didn't outright affirm or deny.

"Hell. Good for him for teaching you without getting caught. That's pretty damn impressive. Too bad he's still in. We could use a guy like that." Still, Logan refused to really acknowledge it as North pressed forward.

After he'd determined that Logan knew how to shoot, and was even an impressive shot on the course, he moved forward to more aggressive work. Drills. Infiltration exercises. Fury had a firing range enclosed in a building that the two of them ran through, guns drawn as if they were going through a house of some sort.

They ran the scenario a dozen times over before they took a break. Logan's ears were ringing from the near constant gunfire.

As they took a breather, North watched the young man as he silently soaked in all he'd learned.

"You got any questions?" North asked, but Logan just shook his head the slightest. "I can see why Fury had you at the top of his list." Logan's eyes flicked up to meet North's, but still, not a word.

"We'll do more of this tomorrow. But let's hit a bit of sniper training. Probably won't need it, but I want to see how good you are."

"Sounds good," Logan finally replied before the two of them got to their feet and headed to the long range course.

"You say that now. You're a good shot, but sniper course starts at a thousand yards and goes to full distance at three miles."

For just a moment, Logan smirked, but that fell to the wayside. He was thinking that Kate would have really enjoyed this — the distance. The crazy shots. And just like that, the smirk was gone, and he was going right back to training.

Ogun would be waiting again, after all, and the last thing he needed was to walk into that room looking like he might be having a decent day.


	48. Testing the Limits

**Notes: And we're back with another update. Hopefully you have all gone to go read "When Blood Calls for Blood" for the "official" version of this universe… though we still like playing in this Marvel-only one.**

* * *

 **Chapter 48: "Testing the Limits"**

* * *

 _March 2_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Kate was already down at the shooting range happily plugging away at targets when David North finally joined her. She grinned up at her trainer when she noticed him standing there and finished off the line of targets she had her sights on before she pushed herself up to stand and then called out, "You're late."

"Believe it or not, I do actually have more students than just you, Hawkeye," he said with a smirk, settling back to watch her work and offer a few minor critiques.

"You're cheating on me," she accused him.

"I absolutely am," he agreed, his smirk widening. .

Kate sized him up for a moment, one eye shut, before she nodded. "So, is she any good? Another Hawkeye?"

"He's pretty damn good, needs some polish …" He drifted off a little. "But he hasn't flinched yet."

"Well, that's better than I did," Kate said with a smirk.

"Pretty sure there was some illegal training going on," he admitted. "But there's nothing wrong with his aim. Just has to learn to adjust for distance."

Kate laughed. "Well, when can I meet him and kick his butt on the range?"

"Ah," North said, tipping his head back. "He's on the other side."

"Well, dang," Kate said, pushing out her lower lip. "I wanted another Hawkeye."

"I don't think he's interested in the title," North laughed.

"You can _never_ have too many Hawkeyes. Come on. It's, like, a cardinal rule somewhere, I swear!" Kate insisted, grinning wider the more North laughed at her.

"I think he'll stick with his own handle. It'll make life easier," North laughed before he gestured to the next further target. "Quit stalling."

"This is _conversation_ , I'll have you know. Normal people do it all the time," Kate said haughtily, though she lowered herself to the scope anyway.

"Well, the people I hang out with have a little something called _work._ And … a _revolution_ to win. So."

"Aww, North, no. Don't fall for the stick up the butt trap. It already got Coulson," Kate said.

"Coulson's a lightweight," North laughed a little harder.

"Yes, but we love him anyway," Kate said, grinning widely before she refocused her attention on the target and squeezed off her next shot, right on target as usual. She grinned over her shoulder at North, stuck her tongue out with her eyes crossed, and went back to shooting, just to be a pain.

* * *

 _March 3_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Bobbi had been fairly busy outside of the Tahiti program for the last few weeks, not only because she and half the other victors were making a concerted effort to make sure Quill was never alone after his forced engagement but also because in addition to ruining Quill's life, the princesses had taken over 'business as usual', so the grace period was over on trips to the Capitol for _that_.

Not to mention Fury was pushing for a few side projects under the cover of everything that was happening, _and_ Bobbi had just come back from meeting with a few of the victors on the 'other' side of things to discuss the best way _they_ could use all the distraction… and she was, quite simply, exhausted when she finally made her way down to the Tahiti area to find Clint, pull him to the nearest couch, and snuggle in.

"You doing okay, Bob?" Clint asked her after about ten minutes of contented, quiet cuddling.

"Fine. Just tired," she muttered into his chest and readjusted his arms around her so she was better tucked in.

They hadn't gotten much time to get too comfortable, though, when Kurt found them and very gently set the newspaper down in front of Bobbi with an expectant look on his face. "I think we need to talk."

Bobbi untangled herself from Clint just enough to turn and grab the paper and see which headline was on the front page: The royal engagement. She made a face at it and let out all her breath. "Yeah, that's… been a _thing_ for a while."

"I'm aware," Kurt said. "But this is the first that I've been able to talk to you about … this. I know about Quill, and I'm very sorry to hear it, since I don't believe the story on that judging from the look on his face. But my friend …"

"He's not dating Nebula. She tested the waters and decided she didn't want to deal with him. He's safe, don't worry," Bobbi assured him.

"And the rest of the interest from the royal family? Is that gone too?"

Bobbi frowned and sat up a little more as she gave Kurt her full attention. "I can't tell you how long Thanos will be interested in _anything_ , but for right now, yeah, he's watching your friend."

"For what?" Clint couldn't help but ask.

"For… trouble," Bobbi said. "The president thinks he can use Logan's unique ability to attract trouble to his advantage, somehow." She waved her hand. "Hopefully, it's just a passing interest. But even if it's not, I've seen him — he's handling it well. Surprisingly well."

"I know he can be difficult to work with sometimes," Kurt said with a deeply settled frown. "If he's acting like everything is fine, I can promise you: he's burying it."

She tipped her head at Kurt for a moment. "He's not exactly easy to get close to. He won't talk to Charles at all, and honestly, I'm lucky to get much out of him when we _do_ talk."

"Then he's not doing nearly as well as you think," Kurt said, crossing his arms.

Bobbi leaned forward with her hands clasped in front of her as she met his gaze. "Then what do you suggest I do? Because I am _open_ to suggestions here."

Kurt looked thoughtful for a moment. "Inform him that you're his new friend and stick to it. Don't ask for his thoughts in the matter."

"Worked for you, Kate, and Peter, didn't it?" Bobbi said with a ghost of a smirk.

"Then you have to call him out. Every chance you get him alone."

"That part I can do," Bobbi said, the smirk widening. "And I'll make sure Jess knows, too. It's easier for her to get time with him, since, well—" She gestured at herself. "Career."

"He will try to push you away harder," Kurt warned.

"Yeah, that's not how you get rid of Bobbi," Clint said with a little smirk as he leaned into her shoulder with his arms wrapped around her from behind. "Tell her 'no' and she just wants to do it more, right, Bob?"

Bobbi just smirked at him for that one and kissed his cheek.

"Just talk to me if you have trouble," Kurt said as he gestured to the paper. "I don't care how relaxed he looks in those pictures. He's in trouble."

"And we all know it," Bobbi assured him. "I promise — we look after each other. That's what the victors do. We take care of each other — and, honestly, our kids." She smiled at him. "Why do you think I like coming here?"

"Me?" Clint offered, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Be that as it may, he thinks he's alone. He always has," Kurt said. "Even when he's told otherwise."

"I'll pass that on to Jess, too. Promise," she said. "And if anything else comes up, I'll ask you, since apparently, there's a Wolverine expert on staff here," she added with a small, teasing smile.

"It's a good thing for you too," Kurt replied with a _look._

She held his gaze for a bit before she just started to smirk. "I'll make sure to tell Fury your name should be first up after the revolution for when we start consolidating. _Clearly,_ we need our Wolverine expert _in_ the field _with_ him."

"So he's going in the field too then?" Kurt asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Why the heck do you think we let him _or_ Quill go to the palace in the first place?"

"I was under the impression that he couldn't refuse," Kurt replied.

"That's true," Bobbi admitted. "But if Fury wanted to keep them off the radar, he could. He just doesn't." She looked a little annoyed for a moment before she shook it off. "It's good intel. Should speed up the revolution — or so I'm told."

"So that's the only things the Fury has him doing then? Charming the princesses? I find that hard to believe."

Bobbi just gave Kurt a tired look. "Don't believe it. But don't ask me to tell you what he's doing, either."

"I just want to make sure you people don't get him killed before I can see him again," Kurt said, his eyes narrowed a bit.

"Kurt," she said, with a completely open expression. "Do you honestly think I'd let him get killed?"

"When he's going into places like that? I don't know how you can stop him if something were to go wrong."

"We're gearing up for _war,_ Kurt. I can only promise we're trying to put in as many safeguards as possible. And we _are_. I swear."

"I want to hear what's going on when you come to visit," Kurt said, arms crossed tighter.

She matched his expression with a glare. "What I can tell you, I will," she told him.

"Then you'll get the same from me," Kurt replied.

She let out a breath of annoyance. "Kurt, you can't even go on a mission to Seven without spending _hours_ in his house. You really think SHIELD is going to okay me giving you any intel?" she reasoned.

"I'm not asking for intel," Kurt clarified. "I'm asking about my friend, who is under the false impression that I am dead."

"And I'm giving you everything I can," she said. "Not even I know everything that's going on, and the only way I can be effective as an operative when I _do_ know something is if I can be trusted with it. Do you understand that?"

"As long as you can understand that trust goes both ways, yes. Yes I can."

She shook her head and set the newspaper down again. "Let me know if you want to do this again sometime, Kurt. It's been a while since I had a good interrogation," she said in a clearly dismissive tone as she was ready to snuggle back into Clint, too tired to deal with this drama.

"Like I said earlier. _When_ you come back needing help, I'll be waiting to hear what's going on with my friend."

"Which I appreciate. Really." She shook her head at him. "I'm not trying to keep you out, Kurt."

"No," Kurt said as he headed out of the room. "But you need to protect SHIELD above all else. I understand perfectly."

She watched the door close behind Kurt and leaned back into Clint. "Damn."

He let her snuggle into him for a bit, but it was clear that Clint was trying to measure out something to say as he rested his chin on top of her head. "Same guys you're going to bat for are the ones who hired Essex to be a psychologist," he said at last. "SHIELD doesn't exactly have a good track record down here. And I haven't even touched the part where, you know, we all got murdered by their Games."

She glanced up at him. "Don't you start."

"Hey, what, I can't have an opinion too?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not saying _you're_ like that part of SHIELD, but you can't say it's not there. Hard to trust the organization that created the mutts that killed us, y'know? Or how 'bout the videos that screwed up Katie? Or anything else, for that matter?"

"You can't hold the Games against SHIELD forever, Clint. That was Thanos' doing, and you know it."

"Spoken like someone who won," he muttered.

"Nobody wins the Games, Clint," she told him quietly. "And there won't be very many more Games once we spring this revolution. I know Coulson is hoping this is the last one, but he's optimistic." She took a deep breath. "But you have to admit, that's a better deal than we'd get under Thanos. Or anyone else in power right now. You don't know ... it's taken _years_ just to get to this point."

"That's what everyone keeps saying," he replied dully. "But it's hard to keep hope going when you're told to just shut up and do what you're told all the time."

"That's not true," she said with a frown. "This program — it's—"

"It's something to do while they figure out our next set of orders. Locked in at night — watched by cameras all the time." He flipped off the camera in the corner to make his point. "And if you ask questions — like Kurt just did — it's always 'none of your business; we'll tell you what you need to know.' We're putting faith in this thing because we have no choice."

"I know," she had to agree. "It's the only thing we've got, but Clint, you know I'm a spy. You know SHIELD is full of spies. You _know_ we have to be careful about even the smallest bit of information. Even those newspapers are pushing it. That _was_ a cover for an infiltration mission; I wasn't lying."

"And I could back you on that all the way if it wasn't for the fact that we have zero contact with anyone that's not authorized to be here," he said in as reasonable a tone as he could.

"Clint." She let out a sigh and glanced toward the camera for a moment before she rearranged herself so she was snuggled in and no one could see what she was saying. "The last time we let too many people know about this operation, Kurt was kidnapped. We _have_ to be careful, or that won't be the last time someone makes a play for you guys."

"So you're not saying anything because he's in it that deep." It came out more of a statement than a question.

"I'm saying he's new, and he's got _all_ eyes on him, and if we slip up, it'll mean more than just one _failed_ kidnapping attempt," Bobbi said. " _Anything_ goes wrong, and this?" She gestured around the room. "This all goes up in flames."

"Doesn't it seem kinda stupid to use him at all then?" Clint asked.

"It would be stupid not to use the attention," Bobbi countered. "He knows what he's doing, Clint. I understand worrying about your friends — I mean, I've seen _you_ in medical enough to get that. But that doesn't mean I tell you not to go out. And you don't tell me not to risk my neck spying." She leaned into him. "Ask someone else, but don't ask me. I'm in too deep, and I _can't_ risk it."

"Tell me who to ask, and we can just drop it," he replied.

"Ask Coulson. Or anyone in the labs. Your new tech trainer. Anyone you want. I can't promise what they'll give you, but they _can_ give you something."

"Alright, but when trainer review comes up, don't be surprised if you get a bunch of angry faces on their reports. It's kinda hard to tick off Kurt, and I don't think I've ever seen _that_ look on his face."

"I like to think I'm a good trainer," Bobbi defended. "I'd like to be a good friend, too, but that's not what SHIELD asked me to do."

"Yeah, and I'm just saying be careful what you're training them for," Clint said. "Those Awesomes are quick studies on politics."

"Good. They should be," she muttered before she reached up to kiss his cheek. "Come on, Barton. Is this really what you want to be talking about right now?" she asked as she started to kiss his jawline, ready for a change of subject whether he wanted it or not.

"No," he admitted, though he pulled back slightly. "But the mood is kinda blown. You're gonna have to work on that."

"Wasn't my fault," she defended.

"Didn't say that. I just said you gotta fix it. Somehow."

"We could always go somewhere else. Change of venue might fix the blown mood," she offered with a small smile.

"Well, it sounds like a good start," he said with a little smirk. "Lead the way, super spy."

* * *

 _March 5_

 _Noh-Varr's Apartment_

* * *

Noh was carrying three banker boxes full of sketchbooks and other things through the front door when the mail came, so Jubilee was the one to get it, since, well, he had his hands full with moving her stuff in.

It was a process — the moving in. They couldn't do too much at once or it would be _obvious_ , and they did want to keep their jobs, at least until after the Quarter Quell. So a few boxes here and there, not to mention the occasional new furniture, like a bigger dresser that would fit his clothes and hers — the old one went in their office to house some of their styles, since they were already working toward the launch of their new line once the Games were over.

"If you could just set it on the counter, and I'll sort it in a moment," Noh called out to Jubilee as he ducked into the office to set down the sketchbooks and sewing kits. "Do you want these with your current sketchbook and unfinished projects, or…?"

"Totally up to you," she called back. "Most of the stuff we're using for Logan is the joint designs anyhow."

"Well, that _is_ what happens when his stylist is barred from being seen with him. Honestly, are they capable of making logical decisions in regards to your victor, or is this just a general failure all around?" he called back, emerging a few moments later after setting down the boxes by the rest of the mess that was their joint efforts — which weren't quite organized yet.

"They seem bound and determined to just be spiteful when it comes to him," Jubilee said before she stopped and thought about it for a moment. "But what do I know? I'm clearly biased."

"Yes, but it's a wonderful look on you," he teased as he came up behind her, wrapped her up, and kissed her cheek.

She grinned up at him and rearranged herself so that she could properly snuggle him. "So, are we done with moving for the time being? I'm utterly over it already."

"Yes, those were the last three boxes. We can unpack later," he promised. "We have months to get everything organized, after all." He kissed her again before he skirted around her to sort through the mail, tossing half of it in a pile to trash and opening a few that were invitations to parties neither of them wanted to attend before he got to one that was addressed in neat, almost calligraphic writing to "The Stylist Team of Lee and Varr" that had him raising his eyebrows.

"Did we announce an official line, or is this the rumor mill working ahead of us because of our work with your victor?" Noh asked Jubilee, tossing her the envelope after he'd opened it to take out the letter.

"I didn't say a word to anyone _officially_ ," she replied. "I mean. Outside of Honey Lemon, and Doreen — who is still mad that I won't let her take over on him." She shook her head and pulled a face as if that was the most ridiculous thing that had ever been suggested. "And of course, Logan — who I _know_ didn't say anything."

"No, he would not. And neither did I," Noh said. "And Honey and Doreen can be trusted with secrets — especially in Honey's case when it is something like this…" He trailed off as he started to read the letter itself and let out a noise of clear distaste, tossing it on the pile to be trashed. "Never mind. It's drivel."

"What was it?" Jubilee asked, her interests piqued by how quickly he'd shifted gears.

"Drivel," he said again, gathering up the junk mail and other letters and tossing them in the trash can by the counter.

She rushed up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Come on .. what are you hiding? I wanna see."

"No, you don't," he countered before he turned in her grasp to wrap her up too. "You are too wonderful to read anything less than the very best novels or party invitations or praises of your stardom."

She looked from him to the trash and frowned. "Wait. It was addressed to me too? And it came _here._ "

"It was addressed to both of us, yes." He pulled her chin up and stole a little kiss. "But I never listen to that nonsense, and neither should you. You're too good for it."

She arched one eyebrow up at him. "Do you really think I haven't read some of the stuff they sent to my place?"

He let out a sigh. "It's fine, Jubilee. I stopped reading it ages ago, and you should too."

She shrugged a bit and gave a tiny pout. "Maybe I just want to see if their writing has gotten more … interesting. I should be aware of escalating threats, you know."

He let out a sigh. "Well…" He hedged. "I suppose that's fair. You _did_ agree to move in with me…"

She frowned at his hesitation and stepped into him a little closer. "If you don't want to let me read it, then tell me the basics. What was it?"

"I shall not repeat the details or the words used in your company, because they're simply crude," Noh said with a look of pure distaste. "But, yes, it seems your moving in with me has once again given someone license to describe a creative way of ending this bliss."

"I'm assuming it was against both of us?"

"This time, yes," he admitted. "But I've spoken with the Sentinels already about this harassment. Don't worry."

"Physical threats?" she asked. "Or just the 'you are a disgrace' kind?"

"Ah… yes," he admitted. "I was wondering if perhaps we should move elsewhere, but… you seem to hate moving as it is…"

"Well … maybe we can just wait and see how it goes? I'm sure when the Games start up again, we'll have chances to clear the air a bit. And I know Logan will help if he can."

"Yes, we're lucky to have him as the third member of this circus," Noh said with a small smirk.

"Well I tend to think so, yes," she agreed with a little laugh.

He grinned at her for a moment and then swept her up into a warm, lingering kiss. "No more nonsense," he said when the kiss broke. "Let them throw their petty anger at us. I for one think they're just jealous, and I plan to revel in it."

"Obviously," she agreed.

He grinned and kissed her again, this time sweeping her off her feet and into his arms to make up the height difference as he just carried her off — and away from the trash can full of hate mail.

* * *

 _March 7_

 _Briefing Room in the Tahiti Wing_

* * *

When Clint hit the briefing room, he had his best poker face on. He'd already talked to Katie — and the rest of the Tahiti group, though he knew Katie was first up on the list — so all that was left to do was… see how Coulson took it.

Of course, Agent Van Helsing had no clue that there were any plans for anything but the usual debriefing here, which just made the little experiment that much more interesting as Clint looked over the file Coulson put in front of him, memorized it, and then closed it and looked up at Coulson.

"No."

"Excuse me?" Coulson asked, in a bit of shock. Clint hadn't even questioned a mission before, so this was … well. This was new. "Is there a problem, Mr. Barton?"

"You said we're free agents, so I'm holding you to it," Clint said as if it was simple. "No." He watched Coulson steadily as he waited for the response. After his discussion with Bobbi about the level of control SHIELD had over their lives, he was bound and determined to find a way to make sure they had something tangible to prove that they were more than just… _pawns_.

Thus, the experiment.

Coulson stared at him for a moment and drew in a deep breath. "Alright then, I'll find someone else."

"Great. I'll just go then," Clint said, standing up and sliding the file back to Coulson. "Have fun."

Coulson stared after him with a bewildered sort of glare before he got up and locked the door to the briefing room on his way to find his second choice. She was, of course, in the training room taunting Kurt as he tried to pick up a new style of swordfighting. "Miss Bishop! I have a job for you."

"What kind of job?" she asked without moving, still grinning after Kurt as he struggled to get his left hand involved in the dual wield, which he was determined to learn.

"Sniper," he called back as he approached.

She seemed to think it over for a moment before she shook her head. "No thanks."

He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. It was one thing for Clint to pull something like this — he was known to be a little unpredictable — but Kate was almost always _pushing_ to go on a mission. "Is this some kind of a joke?" he asked at last.

"What do you mean?" she asked, though the smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth, and even Kurt had stopped to watch.

"You and Barton both?" He shook his head. "I'm not stupid enough to think that's a coincidence. Why don't you tell me what's really going on here?"

But she simply shrugged lightly. "You said we could always say no, and we just wanted to be sure that's… you know. _True_. Not like we have much choice in anything else, right?" Her tone was light, but it was clear she was watching his reaction.

He shook his head, a ghost of a smirk on his face. "Well, yes, of course," he said with a nod. "I guess I just got used to seeing you ready to get out and get 'em. You know. Get the revolution _moving._ "

For a moment, she paused at the dig, but then she shrugged it off and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Maybe next time, Van Helsing."

He let out a breath. "Let me guess. If I talk to the other sharpshooters …"

"Please ask Wade. He has a speech prepared. I think he lifted parts of it from _Braveheart_ after our last movie night as a group," she said with a wide grin.

Coulson shook his head. "I think I'll pass. Thanks for the warning."

"You don't want to watch the speech? It's moving."

"No thank you. I'll just let Maverick know that his kill list is a little longer," Coulson replied before he headed out, though he was sure to call back over his shoulder. "You guys picked a hell of a time to stage a sit-in."

* * *

When Coulson returned less than a day later, it was to get Kurt and Peter in on an infiltration mission. They were in the briefing room, and nothing looked too out of the ordinary when Coulson started his spiel, trying to stress to them how important it was before he ran into any issues like the one he'd run up against the day before. "It's _imperative_ that we get this intel fast," he said. "There's another mission that needs this final check before they go in."

Kurt and Peter glanced at each other, and Kurt gave his friend the slightest of nods before Peter shrugged at Coulson. "Can we pass? Give it to someone else?"

Coulson let out a frustrated breath. "Guys, I understand the need for peaceful protest, I do. But you've got to believe me: you don't want to pass on this one."

"Why?" Kurt asked calmly. "Maybe if we knew more, we'd understand why you're pushing for it."

Coulson looked truly irritated, if nothing else because he knew he couldn't _tell them._ "I can't give you the details on anything but _this_ mission. But it will have major influence on the team going in _deeper_ after you."

"Tempting, tempting, but you _did_ say we could say no anytime we wanted to," Peter pointed out.

"I did, and I meant it, but I promise you — you don't _want_ to let this one slip by," Coulson tried to reason.

"Why?" Kurt asked without changing his expression in the least.

"Fury's new team needs this."

"You said it was a final check," Peter said.

"Yes, for Fury's new covert team."

"Who's on it?" Peter asked outright. "Where are they going?"

"Mr. Parker," Coulson said in a tired tone. "I wish I could tell you. I really do."

"And I really wish we could say yes, because it sounds important, but you know, we're Team Free Will down here, so…." Peter shrugged openly.

"Please," Coulson said, leaning forward with the most open expression the kids had seen from him. "You _know_ I don't normally ask like this, and if it were any other mission, I wouldn't give it another thought, I'd back you up. But guys... This is big. And pivotal."

"Why can't we know what team we're prepping for?" Kurt asked reasonably.

"In part because I'm not entirely sure the roster is solid right now," Coulson admitted.

"Well, which part is solid?" Peter asked.

Coulson looked between the two of them and finally let out a sigh. He could tell that they weren't going to budge, and honestly,he had to agree with their stand, even if it was frustrating his plans. He nodded once. "It doesn't leave this room. Don't tell Kate, or anyone else." He waited until both boys nodded their agreement before he continued, "But the only solid names are David North and John Wraith."

Peter and Kurt shared a look at that, and when Kurt nodded, they both leaned forward in tandem and looked through the files in front of them. "Well, we don't want to have a shortage of trainers down here, do we?" Peter asked, though his grin was entirely directed at Coulson.

"Do you know who else is being considered?" Kurt asked over the top of the file he was reading. "Since the team is not solid."

"Two other possibilities," Coulson said honestly. "But neither of them have been put through their paces, and they haven't worked as a unit yet." He tapped the file folder. "This is the prep for the trial run."

Again, Peter and Kurt shared looks. "Alright," Kurt said at last. "Thank you for giving us the information that will help us do our jobs. I've seen Kate work with North, and it'll help us to know to look for any traps on his preferred entrances and perches."

"This is straight intel for the mission. Their mission site is scouted out on a twenty-four hour rotation right now. Just worry about what's in the folder."

Peter gave Kurt a little look. "Yeah. No thinking, Kurt. Shame on you."

"No, I appreciate the thought. It's good to see you thinking proactively," Coulson said. "The problem is that this mission is a different site entirely from where _they'll_ be going, and Fury's team operates entirely different than any of the Tahiti teams."

The boys nodded and then made it a point to trade file folders and read each other's briefings — making it clear that open information sharing was the name of the game. "Alright — we can prep in ten minutes," Kurt said at last after they'd both finished reading it.

"And thanks for the intel," Peter said brightly as he popped up out of his seat, and the two boys headed off to the hangar, leaving Coulson in the briefing room with a frown on his face.

And in the vents above the briefing room, two Hawkeyes were eavesdropping on the whole thing. They shared a look, and Kate slid back to start on her way to Coulson's office while Clint kept an eye on the resident agent. It would take them too long to get to his office if they waited until he left too, so Kate left ahead of time, while the boys were reading their briefing material, so that she was there when Coulson did finally get to his Tahiti office and made a quick call to Fury.

Kate was just in time to hear the call go through as Coulson connected to the director of SHIELD himself.

"Remember when I told you about how important it was for us to be sharing information? It's a thing," Coulson said as soon as Fury picked up on the other line. "This needs to be addressed." There was a pause before Coulson continued. "Thank you, sir."

By the time Clint had caught up to where Kate was in the vents — moving even slower than usual because they both knew Fury and Coulson were more alert than their usual eavesdropping targets at this point — Fury had arrived in the Tahiti Wing, and he swept into Coulson's office looking _not pleased_ in the least.

The two spies started in fairly hushed tones, but the concern was evident in Coulson's voice. "I had to talk Wagner and Parker into taking their mission because the level of _distrust_ for this organization only gets worse the less you _share_ with your captive operatives," Coulson concluded, and the two Hawkeyes glanced at each other with raised eyebrows over the level of irritation Coulson was allowing himself to show to the director.

"But you talked them into it in spite of that. How?" Fury asked in a fairly clipped tone.

"Believe it or not, I told them what little you didn't bar me from sharing," Coulson replied. "I think this whole thing would have gone smoother if you clued them in."

"That's none of their business, and well above their clearance level," Fury said shortly.

"Who would they tell?" Coulson gestured in the direction of the main body of the Tahiti Wing. "You and I both know it wasn't one of those _kids_ that leaked the intel that got Wagner captured."

"You know how this works, Coulson. 'Need to know' means if something goes south, less intel is compromised. Or do you need to sit in on those beginner's spy classes Morse is teaching these baby operatives?"

"I understand that," Coulson said irritably. "But these kids — they're not spies. You can lecture them all you want, but they haven't seen it. And when you control all of their information like you do…. I gotta tell you, Nick, they're losing sight of the goal posts."

"Then what the hell am I sending Xavier down here for?" Fury asked.

"I thought that was to keep them from losing their minds," Coulson countered.

"If that was all it was, I'd leave it to him for the first few months and then pull him back out and let Essex do his work getting them to toe the line," Fury shot back. "Which, despite his faults, seems to be the _one_ thing he did for us before you and Xavier had more leeway here."

"Talk like that just makes you sound more like Thanos than you realize," Coulson argued.

"I don't have time for hand-holding. And neither do you. Which is why Xavier remains. Leave that to him for a change." Fury replied with a glare. "And you're _still_ behind on your Games work." He turned to leave — but came to a stop at Coulson's next question.

"Have you told Wraith and North anything beyond the fact that they're going into the palace, or did you at _least_ tell them about the new recruit? I know you haven't told their third yet. _That_ should be fun."

"Let me worry about _my team_. When I know he's ready to join them, they'll know. Not a moment sooner," Fury countered. "Wraith and North don't try to buck the system playing twenty questions, you know. They're professionals."

"Part of that's because they have the option of walking. Not to mention the fact that it's what happens when you hire mercenaries — as opposed to your TAHITI 'recruitment.' If the kids were getting paid, I can see you making the same argument."

"I never said it was a perfect arrangement. But it's what needs doing. Or would you rather we left them dead?" Fury snapped back. "Because like it or not — twenty-four kids a year would be sacrificed to Thanos' whim with or without us."

"How are relations going with Silver Fox?" Coulson asked, his eyes narrowed slightly in clear irritation. "Because I think that's a prime example of letting Essex do his thing unchecked, and last I heard — she wasn't exactly friendly to our outreach department."

Fury sighed and let his shoulders relax the slightest bit. "You know damn well she was part of the program before Xavier stepped in for the initial wakeup. It's not like this is the first experiment to have a few bumps at the beginning."

"And you really think a few weeks with Xavier would have avoided us all that trouble?"

"I think you're speaking to a specific case that we now know had far more factors in play. And considering the tape I know you gave to Black Bolt and the other victors ... I'm still mad about that, Phil."

"It rallied them," Coulson said. "As I understand it, even the Fours are stronger behind us after that little leak."

"So you want teenagers, who you seem to think need protecting, out in the field with more intel than necessary, subject to several different forces actively trying to take them apart to discover our secrets…" Fury shook his head at Coulson. "You sure you're on our side?"

Coulson gave him an incredibly dry look. "I just want to be able to give them enough to keep them on task. And 'go do this' isn't working."

"What changed? Because last I heard, it was 'yes, sir' and 'when can I get my next mission' and 'how fast can we work to get the revolution running'?"

"I really don't know what the tipping point was," Coulson admitted.

"Find out," Fury said shortly.

"I will, sir. But the fact remains — they have a point."

"And I'm telling you, I'm not sending our least-trained operatives out with intel they don't need," Fury insisted, looking almost pained. "Tell me this, Coulson — if we told these kids everything, how do you think Wagner's kidnapping would have gone for Hydra if they had him awake for even five minutes?"

"I really couldn't say," Coulson replied. "But I tend to think that they're a lot tougher than you give them credit for in matters like this. Their protective urges are deeper than we've seen on any in the past."

"Which is why we woke them up," Fury pointed out. "I don't want them in the heavy stuff yet. Not unless we can train them on how to take interrogations. But for now, do your magic to make that natural toughness work for us." He paused. "I'm _not_ asking, Phil. If I hear about another worker's strike — your little Camp Feel-Good policies are out the window. Permanently. We don't have time for this."

"Good luck with your pet project," Coulson said dryly. "I'm sure this conversation would be even more of a dead end on that side of the fence. Not like you gave more intel on _that_ meeting than you'd initially intended."

At that, Fury smirked. "I'll let you know how that goes. I'm sure you'll hear it when it finally all comes down."

"I'm sure everyone will. Levels of clearance be damned," Coulson replied with a smirk of his own.

"At least we know it's coming. May have to do it in a soundproofed room or clear out the base before we tell him." Fury stopped at the door and put on a far more earnest expression. "Fix this, Coulson."

"Will do." Coulson paused, his expression shifting into something a little different as he almost smiled. "But I have to ask: how are _you_ holding up? I haven't seen you move this slow … well, ever."

"Your concern is touching," Fury said with a bit of a smirk. "But I haven't had to move that _fast_ in a while either. I'm just sore."

"I'll admit, I'm sorry I haven't sat in on one of those sessions. With popcorn."

"You and Hill share a brain, Coulson. She said she'd bring a slushie."

"Great, we can save on snacks." The two men shared a look before Fury finally left, and Coulson let out a sigh as he went back to his desk and rubbed his temples for a moment.

The two Hawks in the vents shared a look before they slowly pushed back and then headed out, slipping out of the vents in Clint's room in total silence until, finally, Kate said, "I'm gonna hug the stuffing out of that agent."

Clint just shook his head. "Gotta tell the gang — strike's off until we ditch the vampire somehow. As much as Fury's 'do what I say' schtick sucks..."

"I'm sure Van Helsing is working on that right now," Kate said with a nod.

"You know it," Clint said as he shook his head at the whole thing. "Alright, you tell the rest of the Awesomes when they get back."

"You act like I'm not going to see at least one of them the second he gets back."

Clint smirked. "Yeah, well, at least now we know we can say no to the 'little' stuff so long as they have paid backup, but try and back outta more than that and the vampire gets involved."

"Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy," Kate agreed. She and Clint shared a quick fist bump before they split — Clint to update the rest of the Tahiti group on Operation Free Will and Kate to follow through on her promise, arriving at Coulson's office with her very best smile as she knocked on the door.

"Promise I'm not here to yell at you!" she called out brightly.

"Then come on in," Coulson called back. "It's open."

Kate cracked open the door and saw Coulson doing his usual stoic thing like he hadn't just been nursing a migraine a few minutes ago. "How ya doing, Van Helsing?" she asked, not even waiting for his response as she ran over to wrap his shoulders in a hug as best she could while he was seated.

"Are you feeling alright, Miss Bishop?" he asked, though he returned the hug.

"Fine," she assured him. "I just wanted you to know we're not mad at _you_."

"Oh?" he asked with a questioning look. "How much did you overhear?"

She just grinned and drew a halo over her head. "What, I can't just hug my favorite agent?"

"Your timing is questionable at best," Coulson replied, smirking slightly.

"The word you're looking for is 'purposeful.' And also 'awesome.'" She beamed at him and lightly punched him in the shoulder. "And we're really, really glad you and Charles are in charge, fyi."

"You and me both," Coulson said. "Don't worry, I'm sharpening my wooden stakes."

"Good, because, you know, you gotta earn your title." With that, she bounced once, gave him another hug, and skipped out the door to wait for Kurt to come back with Peter.


	49. Team-Building Exercises

**Notes: This particular chapter is just a whole lot of FUN. We like doing those every once in a while, you know, in between being horrible. This is a Hunger Games universe after all ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 49: "Team-Building Exercises"**

* * *

 _March 9_

 _Fury's Secret Training Room_

* * *

It was finally time for Fury's newest team to meet face to face, and while the two most veteran members of the group had a vague idea of who their final addition might be, even they didn't know for sure until Logan walked through the door with Fury. Maverick was relieved to see him, but he was the only one that had any positive experience with the kid — and it all went downhill from there once Creed laid eyes on him.

Fury didn't even get through the door all the way, let alone open his mouth to make it official, before Creed rushed for the kid. Logan barely registered that it was Victor before he'd gotten punched in the mouth. But from there, the rest of the training Logan had been going through kicked in, and he went into autopilot, using the martial arts that he'd been learning — and in a few solid strikes, Creed was gasping for air on the ground, and the other two members of their team were restraining both of them.

"Glad to see you both can follow directions so well," Fury deadpanned. "I don't know what it is that sets you two off outside of the feud around the Games, but you both damn well better put it behind you for this job."

Creed was half laughing in spite of the fact that breathing was a little harder after the flat-handed edge strike Logan had landed on his Adam's apple before he'd swept his feet out from under him. "Oh, I can hold back for now," Creed rumbled quietly after Fury had taken a few steps closer and muttered some solid threats under his breath just for him and Maverick to hear.

He didn't bother giving Logan the same treatment, instead just waiting for Logan to agree before he told them all their jobs for the mission. Maverick and Kestrel didn't look bothered in the least by their assignments, but Creed seemed to take issue to the 'fireplug' taking the point position.

Creed almost instantly began to tear into every negative aspect he could think of for Logan, listing off all the reasons he didn't _deserve_ to be the point man — only to get cut off by Fury. "For starters, _you_ seem to be the only one with a problem against him. He's got a better eye for detail, he's a _damn_ better tracker than you will ever be, and he can _follow orders._ "

"Been in the Capitol all of a few weeks and already he's a trained lapdog," Creed muttered, though that didn't do a thing for team solidarity as the two veteran members gave Creed a look that read how much they'd like to leave him behind somewhere hot and heavy.

Once they'd settled out a bit — and the team stopped looking like they were coming up with ways to find excuses to leave Creed behind — Fury ran them through a few scenarios and was pleasantly surprised at how well they could work as a group after that initial dustup, even more so at how very well Logan and Creed worked when they both decided to put their feud on hold. But the ceasefire was certainly strained between the two of them.

Finally, at the end of the training session, the other three were free to head off, while Logan was, once again, directed back to Fury's office.

Once they were inside and Fury knew they were alone, he gave Logan a look.

"Yeah. I know. Don't hit your precious pit-bull," Logan half growled out.

"No, that's not what I was going to say at all," Fury replied easily. "Hit that sonofabitch if he gets too lippy. If you don't, he might start to realize that you and I have a standing agreement already."

Logan just glared at him until Fury gestured for him to take a seat, though he was angry enough still that he _couldn't_ and instead opted to stand, arms crossed and glaring.

Fury simply held his gaze, giving nothing away. "The two of you work well together. And I don't mean that as a joke or a jab. You're both so damned aware of where the other one is — you're perfect lookouts for each other."

"You are one sick, twisted—"

"And I want you to take advantage of that," Fury said, cutting him short. "Learn everything you can about how he moves and thinks, and as soon as we're done with him — and I'll let you know when that is — I'm gonna ask for you to end him."

Logan let out a sigh, slightly deflated at the offer, though he still had to ask: "Any reason that can't be oh … this weekend?"

"I told you, we still have a use for him. The second he shows any loss of interest in our cause, or God forbid a tendency to lean the other way, he's a dead man." Fury tried to look open, but the man just didn't really have it in him. "Until then, you _will_ play as nice as you can with him. He is on your team, and like it or not, he's the one covering your ass out there."

"So you're trying to kill me too," Logan surmised.

"No," Fury said, shaking his head. "But it wouldn't hurt for you to make sure you're watching your own back. Don't _rely_ on him for anything."

Logan frowned deeper and let his gaze fall to the ground as Fury smoothly went into a very basic idea of what his new position on the team meant, and what was expected of him.

* * *

 _Triskellion_

* * *

"Okay. I'm with the kiddies," Fitz said brightly as he practically pushed Skye in the opposite direction down the hallway on the way to a training exercise for the Tahiti kids — and Logan — that they were both sure was going to be a _hit_. "You're with our 'other' player in this game."

Skye shook her head at him, almost laughing at the _look_ on his face. "You are not subtle."

"I wasn't trying to be," he pointed out with an ever-widening grin. "Come on. This is gonna be fun. Test day for our _premiere_ class!"

"You have weird tastes, you know that? Most kids hate test day," Skye said, shaking her head at him.

"Yes, well. We're _giving_ the test — not taking it." He pointed out before his whole disposition lit up with a grin and he held his arms out wide. "It changes everything."

"That and it's a _game_ and not a test," Skye said with a little smirk. She waved Fitz down the hallway. "Alright. Get 'em started on those security codes, and let's see just how well mine listened."

"That depends entirely on how distracting of a teacher you were," Fitz said with a wide grin, and then he ducked off before Skye could tell him off, though she had spun on the spot open-mouthed as he disappeared.

She shook her head to herself and headed down to Fury's office — she didn't ever think that she would get used to kicking _the director of SHIELD_ out of his office for these lessons, no matter how many times she did it — and found Logan with his arms crossed and a serious sulk on his face, along with a split lip.

"As soon as you're ready," Fury said, not addressing Logan's attitude in the least. "I'll be sticking around this time."

"Oh, okay," Skye said, suddenly a bit more nervous — and inexplicably disappointed — though he was pulling up some other feeds on his laptop as well, so at least there was that. She took a breath and then turned to Logan. "Alright, I've got an entire group of people working on this so there's not one person's pattern you can break. Most security measures are done that way — lots of people work on them. And they're live, so you have to outdo their countermeasures."

"And do what, exactly? Shut them down?" Logan asked.

"You're not trying to trigger a systemic shutdown," she corrected. "You don't want to get caught. You're looking for a program that I have conveniently named 'These Are The Cameras' and one called "Here Be The Alarms'."

"Subtle," he said with a deepening frown.

"Yeah, that's the only easy part here," she assured him. "Fitz and I wrote the outline for this particular program, so if our guys on the other end are smart — and they are — this will be a _challenge_." She smirked at him. "Time to graduate."

"Just what I need today," he muttered.

She lost a bit of her smile — he usually went along with her enthusiasm, so she wasn't sure what had him all … sulky this morning — and nodded as she set up the laptop, and she sat down beside him to watch as the exercise got started. Though her smile came back in force when she realized that not only was Logan keeping pace with the program and finding his way into the security lines — but her secret little team of remedial hackers was reacting exactly like they should, trying to block his avenues and to put up new firewalls on the fly.

Finally, though, Logan was able to shut down the cameras and alarms, and as the program shut down, Skye had to smirk at him. "Thirty seconds and they would've had you rerouting your entire approach."

"Lucky me," he said, though the frown hadn't budged.

Fury gave her a dry look before he stood up to leave. "Run through those last security protocols I gave you — one more time."

Skye raised both eyebrows at his interjection, but she nodded all the same as she took the laptop from Logan. "Yes, sir," she said, waiting until Fury was gone to lean over to Logan. "These are nasty, but you'll totally cream them."

While she set it up, he leaned back in his chair and crossed one arm over his middle as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course it's nasty, or he wouldn't have anything to do with it."

She finished her setup and then paused before she would have handed it over. "You doing okay?" she asked.

"I'll be fine," he said before he drew in a deep breath. "Just havin' a particularly shitty day."

"Wanna play poker when this is over?" she offered.

"As long as that jackass doesn't come back and tell me I have to go back to fighting for another two hours."

"He's running you pretty hard, huh?" Skye asked quietly. When he didn't respond for a moment, she paused, bit her lip, and added, "No offense, but, I thought that was your thing. It's never bothered you before."

"It was fine — it _is_ fine," he said with a little shrug. "Just ... not real thrilled with my new partner. Sure as hell don't want to be around anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Skye said honestly before she handed him the laptop.

"I'll make it work," he said with a little growl in his tone. "For as long as I have to."

"Yeah, that seems to be the running theme around here," Skye said with a sigh.

"Another crap assignment then?" he asked, turning the attention from himself to her with a raised eyebrow. "Is it as bad as this one?"

"Not for _me_ , but a couple of the people I work with are … well. Making that face," she said as she gestured at him.

He looked at her for a moment, glanced around the office, then got up to walk over to Fury's desk. He pulled on the bottom left drawer — which of course didn't want to open until he kicked it hard, and Skye was sure she heard something break. The shock was plain on her face as he took a bottle of whiskey out of the drawer and came back over to where she was sitting to take a deep pull, though he did wince a bit when it hit his busted lip. "Okay. What am I doing?"

"Couple nasty security measures. You don't need to shut them down if you can reroute them, but you have to do either or your team will... well…. It won't kill you right off, but it'll be nasty... And then..."

"We die," he said with a nod. "I screw up or get us caught — we die. Got it." He looked her way for a moment when she looked a bit taken off-balance. "It's all I've been hearing from everyone for the past few weeks. Getting tired of it, to be honest." He said it with a little wave as if it was nothing to be concerned with.

She watched him for a moment, absolutely sure that she didn't like this look on him as she tried to figure out just what it was that she could do about it. "Okay, how about… Gimme that bottle, and I will race you. You get whatever's left at the bottom when you finish your job here," she said at last with a little grin.

He gave her a look and took another long, hard pull before he started to hand it over, though he didn't let go of it right away when she tried to pull it out of his hand. "You sure you're willing to deal with Nick having his panties knotted up in your direction?"

"If it makes you stop making that face? Then yes. Yes I am," she said, pulling the bottle from him before she made a point of tipping it back for a long pull to prove her point. "Clock's ticking. Don't let me get too drunk and get in trouble," she all but sang out at him.

He shook his head with a smirk and got down to it, chuckling to himself and already in a much better mood with the new race in mind. He even managed not to swear up a blue streak when he hit a snag. When he finally got through it, he took the bottle right out of her hand as the screen flickered back to the home setting on the program.

She beamed at him, clearly buzzed but pleased with how well her little stunt had gone. "Nice timing."

"You're baiting me."

"I am not," she said, straightening up and looking supremely insulted. "I'm _motivating_ you."

"Same thing," he argued before he drained the bottle and then gave her an incredibly pointed look as he tipped the empty bottle at her. "And you're trying to get me drunk. _Again_."

" _You_ got the bottle out. _I_ am just seizing an opportunity," she said with that same buzzed smile.

"The opportunity to get me sideways," he argued half under his breath. "Troublemaker."

"Hey." She leveled a finger at him and looked properly flushed. "Let's get something straight. If you were ever sideways, I would want to not be drunk, and I wouldn't want _you_ to be drunk, and I would just be straight with you because I am _not_ Se-" She stopped short. "I am not people that I should not mention in Fury's office while I am drunk."

She didn't realize that she'd gotten him to stop cold, and he wasn't going to point it out. "Yeah, you're a little wasted," he agreed with a little chuckle, though he stopped short of pointing out that being sideways _meant_ being drunk, not … whatever her inebriated brain thought it did.

She just looked at him a little wide-eyed. "I'm starting to regret this decision, just a little bit."

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about. This was just the thing I needed after this afternoon's training," he said as he stood up and offered her a hand to get to her feet, and she couldn't stop the grin at hearing that she had, in fact, been successful at cheering him up. "Where are you supposed to be when you're not drinking on the job?"

"Ah, well, I've got a few offices. And a room near my office. But. BUT. We are not going there."

He gave her a little smile and shook his head. She was _fun_ with a little liquor in her. "How about I get you to one of those spots before Fury comes back all knotted up?"

"That is probably a very good idea," Skye agreed as she moved to grab her laptop back from him, though he packed it up for her and tucked it under his arm as she finally stuck her hands in her back pockets, realizing he wasn't going to let her dodge out that easily. "On the other hand, that was almost as fast a breakthrough in the security as when I first ran it, so ... I maintain that it worked."

"Yeah, just threaten me with a pretty girl guzzling my stolen booze," he laughed. "That'll teach me."

"Yes. Yes it will," she said, a little pink again before she gestured vaguely in the direction they needed to go. "I… work down this way. You can just drop me off outside the door, though, because I… I haven't cleaned up in there, and… yeah."

"Got it," he replied with a serious nod. "Just don't want you getting stopped on your way back."

She beamed at him outright as she directed him to where her office was, though he didn't need much more prompting on where to go when Simmons came running up with a wide grin, already gushing about the class before they were even fully around the corner. "Fitz was just telling me about the game, and they were so _mad_ when they didn't win, and — oh!" Simmons stopped short when she saw Skye leaning on Logan. "What happened?"

"Motivation went wrong," Logan offered.

"No, no. It went very right," Skye insisted, leaning closer for just an instant before she stood a bit straighter, grinning. "He totally creamed the security measures."

"She got too much of _my_ booze in the process," he countered as he finally handed her the laptop back and turned to Simmons, still looking perfectly sober himself. "Can you make sure she doesn't get more busted than she might be already?"

"Oh, absolutely," Simmons said with a little nod and a smirk that she couldn't hide at all. She shook her head as she helped Skye to the nearest seat. "Thanks ... you know she really doesn't drink?"

"Yeah, tell her that — it was her idea," Logan said before he gave her a little wink and headed back out, leaving the two SHIELD agents to their own devices.

* * *

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"Okay, team!" Fitz declared as he came bustling into the room where several of the Tahiti kids were ready to start their hacking 'final', as he was calling it. "We are going to kick Skye's team's butt. And I will have bragging rights, because _I_ have faith in you all." He tipped his chin down a bit, meeting each of their gazes as he pointed both index fingers around the room.

The group was relatively small — Kate and Kurt, Clint and Steve, and Carol. It was basically the group of kids who had the least tech experience going in but who were getting more rounded training. But it was also a very, _very_ competitive group, which was why Fitz was pretty sure he was going to _win_.

"I think he's a little excited," Kurt whispered to Kate. "Why is he so excited?"

"Because he's Fitz," Kate replied. "Every time I see him, he's … Fitz."

"I'm not sure that's a proper descriptor," Kurt said low before he shot a smile at Fitz as he passed them by. "Even if it does fit."

Clint grinned at Fitz, clearly enjoying the little show of an overly excited scientist. "Okay, so, are we ready to roll or what?"

"Just waiting for confirmation…" Fitz was half pacing at the computer when something finally flitted across the screen, and he beamed, clapping his hands together once. "Alright. Go time!"

With that, the block Fitz and Skye had put on the computers was lifted, and the small group got straight to work. As excited as Fitz was, they were also _very_ competitive, and the second whoever was on the other end got to work, Steve let out a little whistle.

"Fast study," Steve said when the countermeasures he and Carol had been working on went up in smoke. "We just finished that!"

But nobody was really listening to Steve as they were all focused on keeping pace — it was, as Fitz had told them when he explained the rules of the game — more difficult to build the system than to tear it down, so the five of them were basically trying to set up walls to stop a wrecking ball.

"He-e-ey," Kate said as their mystery opponent got through a particularly tricky bit of code that she had put a lot of work into.

"Got him," Kurt said with a satisfied smirk as the code he'd nestled in behind Kate's kicked in, and their mystery opponent suddenly seemed stumped.

Fitz was all but leaned over in anticipation. "Ooh, yes," he agreed. "Now that — that's a clever trap right the- aww." He completely deflated as, after a couple minutes, the code was broken.

"This guy's fun," Clint said with a smirk as Kurt said some words that Kate recognized from his German books that didn't translate well.

"Yes. She is," Carol said pointedly, which just had Clint chuckling.

Fitz was on his feet for most of the game, but finally, even as Steve and Kate were working up a countermeasure and Kurt was trying to beef up his last code — whoever was on the other end broke through, and the screens all went blank.

What followed was about a minute's worth of loud Scottish, German, and English swearing all garbled together.

Fitz was the first to rally, though, and he turned to the little group of them with a proud grin. "Okay. So that was a tad disappointing," he said in a bracing sort of tone. "But just think — you all didn't even know how to find your way through a line of code to save your life before the Fitz and Skye Boot Camp! So I think we can qualify this as a win, right? Right."

"Rematch," Kurt said with a scowl.

"Ah... we'd have to get a new opponent and a new simulation," Fitz said, pausing at the determined look pointed his way.

"Or we can pull in Peter and Bruce to help," Kurt argued.

"Or you could play against Peter and Bruce," Fitz said.

"No — I want to take _this_ one down," Kurt said, shaking his head as he accusingly pointed a finger at the screen.

"Me too. I almost had her. Me and Steve," Kate insisted.

"You did, you really did," Fitz agreed. "But… but I can't rearrange Skye's _student's_ schedule."

"REMATCH," Kurt repeated, both hands clapped down on the table as he got to his feet.

"O _kay_!" Fitz held up both hands. "Wow, you are pushy. I'll ask Skye if her star student has time, but I'm telling you, he's not even on the program anymore; she has other stuff to go over with him."

"So it is a guy," Clint said Carol's way, and she rolled her eyes at him and stuck out her tongue.

"It'll give us some time to get some code from Peter, Bruce and maybe Tony too," Kurt decided with a smirk.

"Now, that's a bit of cheating," Fitz said unable to stop his own smirk at the prospect of blowing Skye's bragging rights. "But if you give me three days and _don't tell Skye_ , I could bet her something big when you guys blow her away. I've been trying to get her to let me supe up her van for a while ... it really could be a mobile command station…" He trailed off and started to mutter to himself as he fell into drawing up plans and ideas.

"Three days works for me," Kurt said as he turned to the others. "You guys have any big plans?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Clint said with a smirk, and that seemed to decide it for all of them.

Fitz broke into a wide grin. "Okay, guys. This - this is happening."

* * *

 _March 12_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Bobbi was exhausted. She didn't have any training scheduled for the day because her usual students were involved in some kind of competition — or watching it, or betting on it. But she liked coming down here, to the Tahiti wing, where she was a trainer and not a victor — and where she could find some hugs.

She snagged Clint by the collar as he was passing her by on the way to a classroom nearby, and he was surprised for only a second before he realized she was wrapping her arms around him, and he quietly pulled her under his chin.

"Heya, Bob," he said with a little smile.

"Hey yourself, Barton," she said, resting her face on his chest.

He tipped his head at her for a second before he looked both ways and pulled her into the briefing room nearby. It wasn't ideal, but it was closest, and he practically pulled her onto his lap and carefully kissed her temple. "You okay?"

"I … had a hard couple of days," she said quietly.

Clint watched her for a second longer and started back up with very gentle kisses. "You should just move in with me or something," he teased. "Stop going up topside if it bothers you so much."

"I thought you said this place was a prison," she said, leaning into him a bit.

"You can just ignore me for a while, but only for a while," he offered, pulling her tight for a few moments.

They stayed like that, totally quiet, until Clint finally cleared his throat. "Ah. I sort of have a _thing_ in five minutes," he said. "I'd ditch for you, but Kate and Kurt would both kill me, so…" He shrugged against her back. "You want to come? Should be fun."

"Sure," she said. "I could use some fun."

He grinned crookedly at her and took her by the hand, and by the time the two blondes got to the classroom, it was clear that the competitive stakes were running high as Fitz couldn't stay seated and both Peter and Tony were giving last-minute advice to the rest of the team.

"Yeah, we… we are maybe a little too invested in this," Clint said with a little sheepish smile before he kissed her cheek.

"Apparently," she said with a growing smile as the attitude in the room was totally infectious.

"Alright, guys — let's show them what you've learned," Fitz said with a huge smile as the players got settled at their computers and he got the signal from Skye that their opponent was ready as well.

Of course, as soon as the game got started, the room seemed to get even more frenzied as they were clearly _determined_ not to be stopped this time. All five on the original team had their heads together and were shouting suggestions back and forth, but Fitz and Tony were the ones to watch as Fitz started to stammer when Skye's student broke through his encryptions.

"Hey — _hey_! Not fair, Skye. Not fair. That was _coaching_ ," Fitz muttered to himself.

"No worries," Tony said with a little smirk. "No way is he getting past me." He was practically giggling to himself as he set up his trap, grinning broadly as he put in the last few lines of code, then crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Game, set, match. Don't even need to add a back up."

"We'll go ahead and write one just the same," Fitz said with a little shake of his head.

"Trust me," Tony said, tossing a few dried cranberries into his mouth. "He's not going anywhere."

Sure enough, the mood in the room kept ratcheting up as it was clear their mystery opponent couldn't get past it, and finally, when no progress had been made for five minutes, the simulation ended, and Peter let out a little whoop, which really got the celebrations started.

Bobbi couldn't help but grin at the kids as Fitz was loudly declaring that they were the best team ever, and Clint came and scooped her up to give her a lingering kiss.

"Fun, right?" he said with a crooked grin. "I mean, for a whole lot of computer crap and not shooting anything."

"Well, the mood is certainly high," Bobbi agreed.

"Hey, we needed a way to blow off steam, and while hitting things is fun? It's getting repetitive," Clint pointed out with a sideways smirk. "Also, would you believe _Kurt_ is the competitive little monster? Because he is."

"I'm not entirely surprised," Bobbi said with a laugh as she basked in his cheerfulness.

"Yeah, well, whoever we totally just dragged is probably getting the disappointed Skye face," Kate called out from where she was grinning at Kurt with all sorts of trouble dancing in her eyes.

"You mean whoever _Tony_ just dragged," Bobbi answered.

"C'mon, Bob. We simply pooled our undead resources. We're _resource-_ ful," Clint said as he leaned over to kiss her.

"Yes, you were very resourceful to turn to your personal tech genius to torture this guy. Nice work."

Clint grinned at her. "Well, we won. Should we celebrate…" He dropped his voice. "Or did you want to hide some more? I can do either."

"Can we manage both?" she asked, matching his quiet tone with a small smile.

"Sure. You pick a spot, and I'll bring the cheer," he said with a significant sort of grin. "Think I have a little _cheer_ left over in the flight sim from where I stashed it last time. Kate said it was a good year, so it probably is."

"I really don't care where we go," Bobbi told him frankly. "Let's just leave them to party."

He reached over and grabbed her by the hand. "Sounds like a plan. And I know you like plans," he teased her as the two of them slipped out the door while the rest of the team was still celebrating.

* * *

Of course, while the mood was high in the Tahiti Wing, it was decidedly _not_ topside in Fury's office when the simulated tech battle ended and Skye openly glared at the screen for a second before she turned to find Fury just a couple of feet away from her. And he looked, well, furious.

"You do realize that I want this fixed?" Fury hissed. "We're nearly out of time as it is — and you now have _three days_ to fix. _This_." He gestured to Logan with one hand. " _Oversight_."

"Yeah. Yeah, I got it," Skye said quickly. "He'll have it down. I swear."

"You two aren't leaving this room until it's remedied," he continued as Logan pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. "And I'm taking the liquor with me this time." He glared at both of them hard, though Logan waved him off with one hand, totally ignoring the glare he was getting.

Skye waited until Fury had all but slammed the door on his way out before she turned to Logan. "They so cheated. I know whose code they used, and it's way classified and totally not going to be used by _anybody_ who isn't in my division of SHIELD, and I'm the _only person_ in my division — so they just _so totally cheated_. And when I get to Fitz, I'm going to find said Classified Person and kick their Classified Butt."

"In the meantime, you're stuck trying to fix me." He didn't look pleased at all as he let his hand fall and he leaned back in the chair.

"Yeah, I got that. And Fury took the booze, so no motivation today, either," she said with a hint of a smirk.

"Least I didn't have to deal with my idiot partner before this," he said with a sigh.

"You know, you're the one who taught me how to deal with idiots on teams. I thought we talked about this. Throat punch!" she said, miming the move.

"Yeah, well. He knows a few of the same tricks," Logan said as he gestured to the much less swollen lip. "And he got the drop on me."

"Yeah, I noticed that last time," she said. "I wasn't gonna ask. But I didn't think Fury gave it to you. He's been walking like he's eighty, and he thinks no one noticed."

"Training with him has kept away from the face," Logan said with a nod. "Can't have me showing up anywhere looking like a mess, apparently. This was just a fight."

"Fun." Skye pulled a face before she settled into a more comfortable position. "Okay, so even though I totally know this code, we may be a while. This guy… he's a genius. They specifically got him for SHIELD for his tech, and he's actually probably above my head."

"Perfect," he muttered. "And you're stuck with the drunk lumberjack."

"Sober lumberjack 'til we get out of here," she corrected him.

"So far as you know," he said under his breath with a tiny smirk.

"If you're holding out on me, that's … probably a good idea," she said with a grin.

"Nah, just working off a buzz from the weekend still," he admitted.

"Oh. Yeah," she said, losing the grin as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Saw you in the papers again."

"That's _awful_. Sorry for your luck." He shook his head a bit. "Rotten thing to see in the morning."

"Don't… don't set me up like that," she told him, pointing her finger at him. "Don't. That's mean. I can see it. And it's mean, and you _know_ it's mean."

"What?" he asked, looking perfectly innocent, and honestly not catching what her problem was with a little self depreciation.

"No. I am not rising to your bait, mister. It's not happening. I am not drunk today," she insisted.

"Well you must be something if you think I can keep up even _with_ coaching."

"Look, you were keeping up fine on your own when we were playing by the rules. Just because they brought in their star player doesn't mean you don't know what you're doing. Let me just… look, this guy is a genius, but I can show you at least how to stop him from finishing his countermeasures. They're crazy tight when they are finished, and I'll be honest, I still haven't cracked some of them. But everything you would encounter in the field? We can do that, no problem. I can 100% guarantee that this particular guy, he is _not_ going to be a problem out there."

He gave her a look for a moment before he gestured to the screen. "Alright. Do what you can."


	50. More Stressful Than Test Day

**Notes: And this chapter begins the setup for the next Games… We're kind of excited to get to that part, honestly. Just you wait. It's going to be amazing :D**

* * *

 **Chapter 50: "More Stressful Than Test Day"**

* * *

 _March 15th_

 _Skye's Bedroom_

* * *

Skye was positively dead to the world asleep when Coulson came in, so it really wasn't her fault that she accidentally kicked him when she jerked awake.

"Easy!" Coulson grumbled — both hands out in front of himself to keep from getting hit again. "Calm down, I'm just … you have to get up. Come on, how else am I supposed to wake you up when you're dead to the world?"

" _Coffee_! Coffee would have been better! Or knocking! Knocking would have been the best possible thing here. I am in my _pajamas_ — get out of my _room_!" Skye said in a state near panic as she was still not quite out of her dream.

"You need to get into some clothes," Coulson replied as he made a point not to look anywhere near her. "Fury wants you in the command center for this mission. Just in case your student panics or hits a roadblock."

"He's not gonna _panic_. Turn around so I can change," she ordered him, grabbing yesterday's jeans from off the floor and a shirt from the laundry basket of clothes she still hadn't folded. "Don't they teach you how to, I don't know … _knock_ in that stupid academy?"

"Not without a battering ram," Coulson deadpanned before waiting with his back to her, a smirk firmly in place as she rushed to get going. "They're already in the field — just not to the mark yet."

"Okay, okay, I'm _going_ ," she said, pulling on one shoe as she glanced around the room for the other. It had been kicked under the bed in her rush to get ready, and she had to fish it out before, finally— "Let's get this show on the road, AC."

"I'm gonna ask that you _not_ call me that today."

"Agent Van Helsing?" she offered as they hit the hallways.

He gave her a dry look as they got moving a little quicker. "How about just not saying anything unless it's necessary?"

"Not gonna be a problem if someone wants to find me breakfast or coffee or something, since I'm _sure_ you won't need me."

"I'm sure there's coffee there," he said. "Right next to AD Hill. She keeps it on hand when she's being … nervy."

"As long as she doesn't mind sharing," Skye said, picking up her pace to keep up with Coulson's longer strides until they hit the command center — where, in fact, Hill was the closest to the coffee, but Fury was also there, watching about ten different monitors as the new team's radio channel played over the strict silence in the room.

All of Fury's closest team members were in the command center, and all of them looked tense as they watched what there was of the mission playing out on the screens, obviously from the body cams on the elite team members.

Very little about the mission was simple. The only factor that even made it possible was the fact that Quill had reported that Thanos was out of the palace doing God only knows what, which had security down slightly, since the president wasn't home. It was creepy to see the inside of the palace through the cameras — and each camera showed a slightly different viewpoint as the little group of four were moving together in their positions and sticking to them tightly.

As they moved, more permanent bugs were set up, in addition to some miniaturized cameras that some of their best and brightest had developed that were even able to move on their own to avoid detection.

The only sounds coming through the radio connection were the whispered checkpoints as they made progress. Not even the heavy boots they wore made a sound as they crept through the palace. The last step was of course the worst — and the reason they needed the full team _inside_ rather than a hack from outside.

Breaking into Ronan's office was a portion of the mission that had everyone in the command center holding their breaths — and even then, after all of the protocols were followed and all tripwires, lasers, and whatnot were temporarily disabled, there was the matter of bugging the room and setting up the piggyback that Skye and Fitz had created so they could know what was happening on Ronan's side of the operations, not just the preliminaries he'd shown off to Logan and Quill.

Of course, it wasn't an easy task — made more complex when not only was the coding harder than they'd expected — and Skye was watching carefully through the body cam Logan was wearing ... but having his raspy-voiced partner muttering over his shoulder all kinds of idiocy and irritation was generally not helping the situation at all.

She was starting to get nervous for him. Her system of knowing how much of a problem Logan was having by the amount of swearing he was doing was suddenly alarmingly accurate all the way up until his body cam made a quick switch of view and a rather muted crack echoed the mics before Logan got back to work, cursing up a blue streak faster than Skye had heard him do before.

"Should I be worried?" Fury asked, his gaze on Skye as the cursing continued.

"Only if that, um, whoever keeps bugging him," Skye said, frowning as she was pretty sure she recognized the rasp. "He knows what he's doing, but… I can plug in if you need."

"Only if he gets stuck," Fury said, going back to the show, where Mr. Rasp had fallen suddenly silent. It took a few minutes longer, and then the team was on the move — rapidly covering ground with rifles raised and not a word spoken between them.

Hill was on her feet, walking slowly toward the bank of screens as the team seemed to be out of there scott-free. But it wasn't until they were at the final checkpoint that Fury turned to Quartermain. "Camera switch, please," he said in a much more normal, businesslike tone.

As the screens changed, one by one, to the fresh eyes the team had planted around the palace, Fury checked in with his team — finally. "Is everyone out?"

Maverick was the one to answer with an affirmative, though he sounded almost amused when he did. "Out with minimal blood loss," he said quietly. "Be back to base before you know it."

Fury turned to Skye, looking a bit more weary than he had before. "You're excused. But you'll be picking up your tutoring same time tomorrow. That took too long."

"Right. Yeah." Skye nodded, though she paused at the door and turned around. "Toldja he wouldn't have a problem."

Fury just glared after her as the door closed behind her and the room prepared for a twenty questions-style debrief with the new team.

* * *

 _March 16_

 _Fury's Office_

* * *

Skye found her way down to Fury's office with her laptop and a _plan_. She was pretty sure she knew whose voice she'd heard the previous morning, and she didn't like it in the least.

Of course, when she got there, she couldn't help but notice that Logan just looked _worn,_ and she glanced toward Fury for a second before she dropped in the seat to sit next to her favorite pupil.

"I don't have time to babysit," Fury said, gathering up a few papers. "And I may not be around tomorrow — let yourself in. I want him faster than he was last night."

"Well, that's just a matter of practice, so ... should be easy enough," Skye said, watching the director pack up. "Um ... have a nice trip?"

"Don't try to be cute," he said on the way out, and Logan tried to sit up a bit straighter.

Skye waited until the door was closed before she stuck her tongue out at it and then glanced at Logan. "I don't _try_ to be cute; I just _am_ ," she told Logan with a teasing smirk.

"He doesn't have the depth perception. That's his problem."

She smirked at Logan. "You on the other hand…"

"I do okay," he said before he made room for her at the table.

"With the depth perception, yes," she said, pulling up the programs Fury wanted him to run.

"Didn't realize we were talking about anything else," he muttered and ran a hand over his face.

"You doing okay?" she asked, tipped her head to the side with a small frown.

"Haven't slept in a couple days," he admitted. "And the debriefing lasted forever, which was really dumb, seeing as they were watching. I think they were excited for how it went. Sounded like we have another run lined up already."

"That… that sucks," she said, her lower lip out in a small frown. "How come you're not sleeping? I'd want to sleep for a week going in the palace like that."

"Oh, I'd like to," he replied before he covered his mouth for a huge yawn. "But I have training to get through. My other teacher doesn't take any excuses. And he shouldn't."

"Um, he does know about this thing called exhaustion, right? Or burnout? Or… any of that stuff?"

"Yeah, and he uses that as a good reason to hit me harder with the damn sticks," he said with a look.

"Hit you when you're down? What the heck kind of trainer do you _have_?"

"A pain in the ass," he said as he leaned back in his chair. "He's a really old martial arts master. Holds the whole session in Japanese because he doesn't want Fury or anyone understanding him. Probably the only reason he took me on is because I could already speak the language."

"Well, _I_ don't believe in that crap," Skye said. She glanced around the room for a second. "Ten minute refresher course and then naptime. Teacher's orders."

"Oh, now you're gonna order me around?" Logan gave her a little smirk. "Traditionally, that don't work too well. Even for mean little martial arts teachers with sticks."

"But you really really want to do it," she said with a smirk to match as she smoothly got to her feet and headed toward the windows. "Look. Look at the curtains that I'm going to draw," she added as she just started to turn off lights around the room. Her smile only got broader as he watched her, a smile slowly stretching across his face as well.

"Yeah, I really kinda do," he agreed as she closed the last curtain. "That's just … you're playin' dirty."

She grinned at him. "Ten minute refresher. If you do it in five, you can fall asleep sooner," she teased.

"Alright, but don't bet on it," he said. "Go ahead. Set me up for a fall."

She chuckled as she did just that then settled into a seat nearby, kicking up her feet to watch him run through the exercise. It took him nine minutes, and she could tell he was ready to drop off when he just closed the laptop and started to settle in, but…

"So, did you get in trouble for breaking Creed's face?" she asked in as conversational a tone as she could manage.

"No," he said without thinking. "That's just doing the world a favor." He stopped and turned to look her way for a second with a frown. "Hey. Don't … don't do that to me."

"Do what?" she asked innocently.

"Take advantage when my tiny brain ain't workin' full speed." He frowned at her for a moment longer before he pulled his sweatshirt off and wadded it up to use for a pillow. "Dirty trick."

"Oh yeah, because undressing in a dark room isn't a dirty… whatever," she said, waving her hand as she pulled her laptop over so she could get some work of her own done.

"Nothin' you haven't seen before, and I'm ready to _pass out_ ," he said. "Not take advantage of anyone. Like I'd do that."

"I'm not saying you would, but it's still mean," she said, settling back with her brightness turned down low and her next lesson plan for the Tahiti kids pulled up.

"You want me to put it back on?"

"Definitely not," she said.

"Then whatcha bitchin' about?" he grumbled before he moved over to stretch out on the couch.

"Clearly nothing," she muttered to herself. "G'night, Logan."

"Wake me up before we get kicked out," he requested as he pulled his arm over his head. "Then you can point me to somewhere else to curl up."

She watched him settle in and let him drift off while she finished up her lesson plan, though with the lights down and the fact that Logan was making quiet snuffling noises, she was starting to get tired herself, and the next thing she knew, she was asleep in her chair waking up to Fitz _cackling_ on seeing the two of them.

"Is _this_ what you've been doing for your lesson plans?"

Skye sat bolt upright in a panic. "No! No, he was just — we — he was tired and — this _isn't_ the normal lesson plan!"

Logan tiredly watched the two of them for a minute and slowly sat up to shake out his sweatshirt while they continued their back and forth.

"You can't take _naps_ in Director Fury's office, Skye," Fitz chided, clearly enjoying his role as authoritarian for the moment.

"Clearly I can," she countered, arms crossed as she looked him up and down.

"No, I mean, he has cameras in here," Fitz said, as if he was speaking to a child, which really just got Skye fired up.

"We weren't doing _anything_ camera worthy. Just _napping_ ," Skye insisted, throwing one arm out to gesture at Logan, pausing to watch him pull his shirt over his head and losing some of the heat to her argument. "Fury doesn't understand the term burnout!"

"They're off right now anyhow," Logan said as he finished pulling the shirt straight and got to his feet.

"How do you know that?" Fitz asked, spinning toward him.

"I'm taking lessons from the super spy." Logan replied with a totally cocky smirk before he shook his head and tipped his chin toward one of the cameras. "I turned 'em off when he was in the other room. Take a look — the cords are off the back."

"Look at that. My genius, star pupil," Skye said, gesturing toward Logan, who shot her a little smile that had her blushing just slightly.

Fitz shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, Coulson asked me to come get you."

"He got nervous that the cameras were off, didn't he?" Logan asked with a little shake of his head. "Dirty-minded."

"I can't exactly speak for him? But yes, I'd say he gets _nervous_ when he can't see Skye and anyone resembling a lumberjack," Fitz said with an obnoxious grin Skye's way.

Skye gaped at him for totally busting her out like that. "Hey!"

"I'm just saying," Fitz said, shrugging.

"I'm going to steal all the plugs to your devices again, and this time I won't give them back," she threatened with her teeth clenched together.

"Is your _girlfriend_ just as obnoxious as you are?" Logan asked Fitz as he headed for the door.

"Ah, no, no I don't have a girlfriend, no," Fitz said, totally derailed from his picking.

"You sure? Why do they call the two of you Fitzsimmons then?" Logan asked, blocking the exit simply by standing in the door with his arms crossed and scowling at Fitz.

"Oh, well, that's just because we've been together since the academy."

The scowl morphed slowly into a smirk as Logan slowly shook his head. "No ... that's not why they do it."

"Well, that and we finish each other's thoughts," Fitz said.

"I'm sure you do, among other things," he replied, giving Fitz a look that made the scientist gawk at him for a moment.

Skye just smirked at Fitz as he just started to shake his head at Logan, trying to come up with something to say and simply falling short until Skye saved him. "So ... AC?"

"Yeah, he … said it's about time we got down to work on, you know. Our _other_ jobs," Fitz said with a significant look as he tried to figure out what to do with his arms, almost crossing them, uncrossing them, hesitating and then finally shoving them in his back pockets. "I'm sure your ...er ... friend has something he needs to be doing?"

"Yeah. Gotta go learn how to be distracting. See you tomorrow," Logan said, finally stepping out of the door and heading down the hall. "You should take five minutes for your girlfriend though, _laddie_. You're a little too worried about what Skye is up to when you can't see her. She might get jealous if she's got any interest."

"She's not…" Fitz sighed and shook his head as Logan turned a corner. "How do you _deal_ with him acting like that _all the time_?" he asked Skye as they headed down the opposite way.

"I try very hard not to lie to him," Skye said with a shrug, which just had Fitz raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did. Don't lie to me either, Fitz," Skye said, looking completely delighted at the look on his face after he'd been so quick to throw her under the bus earlier.

Fitz shook his head as the two of them met up with Simmons in Coulson's office, and their boss had to smirk Skye's way for a moment.

"Have a nice time?" Coulson asked. "Never thought I'd have to worry about Fury's office being a rendezvous point."

"It _wasn't_ ," Skye insisted. "He can do the ten-minute drills in nine minutes. I'm doing my job."

"That's not some code for something either. She was totally passed out, and so was he," Fitz said with a smirk her way. "Not on the same couch, though."

"Small miracles," Coulson said with a little smirk. "Can we get back to work now?"

"Right, yeah," Skye said, tearing her gaze away from the glare that she had been giving Fitz to look toward Coulson. "What's up, boss?"

"I need Fitzsimmons back in the labs up here," Coulson told them, looking over at the two scientists. "We've got the arena setting finalized, and that means we know what kind of mutts were looking for."

"Ooh, exciting," Simmons said, reaching over to read through the suggestions Coulson already had in the file. She tutted a bit, though, when she read over the arena specs. "Arachnids again?"

"The creep factor is high, and they gave a lot of people nightmares for months," Coulson said. "You could try for lizards, but after the work with the apes, something less … intelligent might be smart to stick with."

"Yeah, we can work with… hmm…" Simmons was reading over the specs with Fitz over her shoulder. "Something suited to the terrain..."

"But not spiders again," Fitz broke in.

"No, not en masse," Simmons agreed.

"What about smaller spiders instead of giant ones?"

"Silly Fitz," Simmons said, shaking her head with an almost affectionate smile. "No one wants to watch a normal death like that. People die of spider bites all the time, and besides, if we don't clear the arena, there will already be snakes—"

"—and scorpions and spiders, yeah," Fitz agreed, then let out his breath.

"What about water?" Simmons asked.

"In this arena?" Fitz raised an eyebrow.

"It'll have to be provided somehow. We can make it more interesting," Simmons said.

"And we _do_ control the entire environment," Fitz agreed, tipping his head a bit with his eyebrows raised.

"And there's something visceral about a fight in the mud," Simmons muttered.

Skye and Coulson both watched the two of them go back and forth for a while with a little smirk before she finally interrupted Coulson's train of thought. "What about me?"

"You and I need to do a few things. Finalize the tribute selection, and I need to have you put your head together with Fitzsimmons on the tracers. They're a little bit ... augmented this year."

She raised an eyebrow at that but nodded. "Okay, I can do that. Can I see the final list when we're done?"

"Of course," he said, even going so far as to dig the single, thin file out and slide it across the desk to her.

By that time, Fitzsimmons were completely in their own world, so Skye popped open the file to read through it before she looked up at Coulson. "I thought we already decided on Seven!" she said with a bit of a glare. "How come there's still _two_ boys' names in this?"

"That's what we needed to discuss." Coulson looked a bit surprised at her outburst. "I think we need to stick to the brunette."

" _Why_?" She gaped at him openly as she dropped the file on his desk, wide-eyed.

"A few reasons," Coulson said. "For one, he's got a good background if he _doesn't_ make it out — and he'd be good for the program."

"He's _fifteen_ , AC."

"So are several of the other tributes," Coulson said in a reasonable tone, but he was frowning deeper as the conversation went on. "I know it's very tragic that these kids are _kids_."

"So we don't _need_ more young ones, right? I thought we wanted scarier. The _blonde_ is scary! Send him in! The brunette is just … _sweet._ "

"There are other factors, Skye," Coulson said.

"Look, Coulson, I've _met_ this kid, and I'm telling you—"

"I know," he said easily, cutting her short. "He's part of the group that meets up at Logan's place. That is one of the factors that's got the higher-ups tipping his way. They think Logan will work harder for a kid he knows."

"How much more are you gonna push him, huh?" she asked. "And what's the deal punishing a kid for taking some itty bitty _adorable fluff balls_ to dinner at Logan's place?"

"They're not supposed to be doing it, Skye," Coulson said. "At all."

"See, that's funny, because I thought our whole thing was defying the Capitol and its stupid rules," she said, glaring at him with her arms crossed.

"It is. At the right time — as a unified effort. This — this is just giving them the middle finger. It doesn't help _anyone._ "

"I don't know if you remember, but giving the higher-ups the middle finger was my _thing_ when you found me," she pointed out, not bothering to pull back her glare in the least. "And it _does_ help. How 'bout the kids that are safe and not freezing or starving or — Coulson, there are, like, _three-year-olds_ in that group!"

"I can't help it Skye — this is from outside of our department."

"Well it's _stupid_ ," Skye argued obstinately as she crossed her arms and sat back with a scowl.

"It is," Coulson agreed. "That kid's grown a solid foot at least since that dinner group started. He's nothing but limbs."

"Because he's just a _kid_. And you know the rest of them are growing too, because they're not starving, and, seriously, Coulson, how the heck do you justify _punishing_ that?"

"I don't," he said. He leaned back quietly and let out a long breath. "Fury's suggestion was to stack the draw between the two boys since, frankly, we don't want to give anyone the idea that they can sway our lottery."

"But when it comes to the girl you literally hired out to profile your lottery, no sway?"

"Did you notice the name on that girl by chance?" Coulson asked.

"I didn't get that fa…" She trailed off and stared at the name for a moment. "That…"

"Was approved by Thanos."

" _What_?" She gaped at Coulson openly. "I mean… _what_?"

"It's a last ditch effort to get him in line," Coulson said. "Before Ronan gets involved."

She just stared at him before she tried to clear her throat. "Then we need the blonde kid so he can _handle_ her. Otherwise, we're sticking a fifteen-year-old with _two of them_."

"It'll be a lottery between the two," Coulson said again, more firmly this time.

"That's… that's just not fair," she grumped. "Everyone else is picked ahead of time."

"You're not being objective," he said. "And off the record, I agree one hundred percent — but it's not my call to make. It's Fury's."

Skye just glared at him for a moment before she let out all her breath. "I have to keep teaching Logan, Coulson. How the heck am I supposed to do that when I know something like _this_?"

"If you can't handle it, I'll have to see if I can switch you out with Fitz."

" _No._ No, no, I'll make it work, I just…" Skye rubbed a hand over her face. "Yeah, this sucks."

"Let me know if it becomes too much for you to deal with," Coulson said, watching her with a steadily growing frown. "You're already a little too personally involved as it is."

"Yeah, I'm not going to apologize for making friends," Skye said. "And I'm _definitely_ not going to apologize for having a soul. This whole thing sucks, and you know it, or you wouldn't be aiming to end it."

At that, Coulson leaned forward and looked almost pained. "This will be the last one, Skye. If it kills me, this will be the _last one_."

Skye paused at that and watched Coulson for a moment as it was clear he was absolutely serious. He held her gaze, and when at last she dropped it, she let out all her breath in a rush. "Alright… let me just… let me see the specs on the tracers."

He shook his head lightly and traded files with her. "It's not my idea, and I don't approve at all, but we have to follow our orders."

Skye narrowed her eyes at the specs in front of her. "Yeah, it's official. I hate this."

"Idea from one of the princesses," Coulson admitted.

"Which would explain why I hate it so much," Skye said. She shook her head and ran both hands through her hair before she looked up at Coulson. "Okay. I see where you need the help on keeping them from deploying early, but Coulson? I'm sending you my therapy bill."

"I know," he said. "If only there was some consolation prize I could give you for your help."

"Yesterday I'd've said a long vacation in Seven, but…."

"Yeah, I know. Though if you end up going back there like you did last time, there will be a guard outside the door," Coulson said.

"That might make it easier," she admitted with a little smirk. "Anything else? More ways to screw people?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure more will come up." He looked over to Fitzsimmons for a moment, who were clearly over their discussion on mutts to listen to Skye and Coulson argue. "Unless you two have more to add?"

"No, no, we're good," Fitz said quickly.

"Then get to work," Coulson told them. "I want this done as quickly as possible, especially since Fitz — you have a few side projects to get done before the next major run for Fury's team. I'd give it to the other weapons expert, but I don't think he'd appreciate the assignment."

The three scientifically-inclined members of Coulson's team shared a look before they very simply scattered — jumping into their new assignments.


	51. Girls Are Confusing

**Notes: This chapter features a little peek-in with someone we haven't seen in a while as we hurtle toward the next Games….**

* * *

 **Chapter 51: "Girls Are Confusing"**

* * *

 _March 19_

 _Fury's Private Training Room_

* * *

The mission that Logan had run with Wraith into Twelve had gone well — more or less as planned. _More_ if you counted the fact that they met their objectives. _Less_ if you counted the fact that Logan had been shot.

But that was two days ago, and even though they'd returned shortly after midnight, Logan had been awakened at dawn by Fury with word that Ogun was waiting for him — and if he wanted to continue his training with him, he needed to get moving.

With an aching stretch, and a pull at his side, he got up and to his feet. It really wasn't an option of _if_ he wanted to continue training with Ogun. It was a matter of how much he wanted it to hurt, and moving faster now meant an easier time later.

Logan deftly avoided Charles, who was clearly looking for him that morning when he grabbed a cup of coffee on the run, and instead rushed to his training session, though his appearance so soon after returning from his mission had caught Coulson's attention.

Coulson looked surprised to see Logan when he stepped into the training room, and he didn't even try to hide his shock when he did something out of his usual scope of duties and approached the young man. "Shouldn't you be taking a day off?"

"What for? I thought you guys wanted to push?" Logan replied as he bit the inside of his cheek and stretched out his sore, battered muscles.

"Most people take time to heal," Coulson stated, frowning at the young man. "You know... after the kind of excursion you just had."

Logan blankly stared at him for a moment. "I heal fast. What am I doing today, or is it just Ogun?"

"That's .. part of why I was trying to get you to slow down. North is busy with another student … and Ogun isn't the only one on your schedule if you get started today. I think you should let it go until you're healed up a little bit." Logan looked toward the door across the room, where Ogun stepped out, glaring like he was waiting for an opportunity to hit him.

"That's not gonna happen. My sensei is here," Logan grumbled as he set down his coffee, locked eyes with the old man, and strode toward him with his head held high.

For someone that had just recently been shot, Logan was sure he was doing pretty damn good. He'd managed to block most of Ogun's strikes and kicks — and that was a vast improvement on its own. But that alone wasn't enough. The effort he was putting into hiding his injuries was wearing him down, and contrary to appearances, Ogun was a very substantial sparring partner.

Ogun frowned at the young man when he realized that he was doing so well, then drove forward in a way that Logan hadn't seen him attack in the past. He struck him hard in the center of his chest with the heel of his palm, and it positively knocked the wind out of him. The soreness of Logan's muscles, the bruises from being shot in the armor repeatedly … it all compounded, and the young man totally lost his frame of mind as he fell backwards, eyes wide and gasping.

Before Logan could raise his hand to defend himself, Ogun kicked him in the shoulder and topped him sideways.

" _Tatakai_ ," Ogun barked out. Logan staggered to his feet even though the edges of his vision was a bit blurry from the pain in his chest and that last hit to the head. His arm wasn't much use from the kick either. " _Jakuten o kakusu koto wa dekimasen_."

He attacked again, and this time, Logan was unable to block nearly so many strikes. He grunted with every blow Ogun landed, his anger rising as the beating intensified.

All at once, Logan snapped and rushed him, and for an instant, Ogun's scowl slipped into a smile, pleased that he'd gotten the young man to truly attack.

It was vicious, and at the time that it happened, Logan truly didn't feel any of the hits Ogun landed, too focused on getting to him so he could wipe that cocky smile off his face. He hit the old man with force enough to crack something in Ogun's arm, and that caught both of them off guard.

It was clear from Logan's expression that he hadn't meant to hurt him. It set Logan back and tripped Ogun off. The old man spun and kicked him full force exactly where the gunshot wound on his side was, sending him to the ground with a harsh cry of pain.

The other foot followed the first as his walking stick came up to crack him under the chin. A flurry of feet and the stick rained down on him until Logan no longer even tried to defend himself from the attack.

" _Never stop when you find a weakness!_ " Ogun shouted at him. He kicked him in that same spot one more time for good measure before he stalked out of the room, his injured arm held tightly to his chest.

It only took a moment for someone to kneel down at Logan's side to check on him. "This is why I would have preferred you wait," Coulson said as he helped Logan to his feet. "You should get checked out."

"Maybe later — if I need it," Logan muttered, though when he stood up straighter, he let out a hiss as the wound at his side screamed at him. "I have more training to get to."

With that, Logan started to limp toward the door that led to Fury's office.

* * *

 _Fury's Office_

* * *

Although they'd been scheduled for another hacking session much sooner, that was derailed by some mystery mission and as a result, Skye didn't see her little hacking student for three days. When she did, he was moving a bit stiffer than she was used to seeing him.

Again, Fury gave them both a look before he slipped out of his office leaving the two of them alone to get to work, and Skye was so busy trying to not act guilty that she entirely missed the fact that Logan wasn't picking on her as he nosed down to get his share of the lessons done.

She didn't notice anything wrong until the lesson was nearly over and she was having him run a ten-minute drill to time him so she would have something measurable to tell Fury whether or not he was getting "faster." It was the first time since the lesson started that she was just waiting and watching over his shoulder without trying to distract herself prepping the next thing.

Skye was worried that Logan had noticed that she was acting off or something, because it was just starting to occur to her that he hadn't picked on her or really said much of anything he didn't have to — until she noticed that he had fresh bruises blooming on his cheekbone, and the flannel shirt he was wearing was darker at his side, just behind his elbow, and wet, and sticky, and…

" _You're bleeding_!" she gasped out, wide-eyed.

"No I'm not," he replied quietly, clearly trying to gloss over it and not alarm her further. "It's fine."

"Don't _lie_ to me; that's stupid. I can literally see the blood stain." She shoved him in the shoulder, then immediately covered her mouth with one hand, regretting it already.

"It's not that bad," he argued, trying to rush through the test as she simply stared at him.

"Not that bad — it's … _you're bleeding_. We should get you to medical!"

He glanced down too quickly to actually assess it and let out a little irritated noise. "I just ... probably popped a stitch or something."

"That — that's something you should get fixed!" she said, clearly exasperated at how not-bothered he was.

He rushed to finish the last part of the test then quickly turned toward the bloodstain just to swear a little under his breath — if nothing else, he hadn't expected it to look that bad. "Alright, it probably _looks_ worse than it is."

"It looks pretty bad," she pointed out. "Do you need — I mean. I have a _little_ training if you need help on the way to medical, or I can call Simmons, or… it shouldn't be — you are _bleeding_."

"I know," he said with a sigh, and from the look of panic she had going, he knew he had to talk her down. "But I'm fine. Really. I probably just need a new bandage, no reason to panic on me over a little blood."

"Okay, well, okay — you need _that_ ," she mumbled out, shoving her things in her tote bag as she was clearly ready to get him to medical whether he wanted to go or not. "What even happened to you? Why are you _bleeding_? You weren't bleeding last time I saw you!"

"Well, it's been a few days since I saw you," he replied with a shrug and a little smile, trying to defuse her. "It happens."

"No, no, bleeding doesn't just _happen_. It's not a spontaneous thing. Not like this. This isn't some 'I woke up with a bruise I must have kicked myself in my sleep' kind of 'it happens'," she insisted.

He visibly paused at that and frowned. "Wait. You kick yourself in your sleep? How? Dreaming of being on a kick line? Or is it more a kickboxing thing … fending off an attacker. Am I close?"

She flushed a bit. "I'm a violent sleeper? But this isn't about — we're not talking about _me_ right now!" she said, shaking her head and leveling her finger at him.

"Maybe we should be. That's notable. Kick _yourself?"_ He tipped his head to the side. "I guess it might be outta line to ask what you're wearing in this dream?"

She stopped at that and flushed bright red before blinking rapidly and pointing a finger his way. "Hey. That … is not relevant to you _bleeding everywhere_. _Maybe_ we can talk about the kicking _after_ we get you down to medical and stop the _bleeding_." She was flustered, but trying very hard to keep her no-nonsense stance, hand on her hip and her chin jutted out.

Logan smirked at her, then made a show out of relaxing. Partly. "I'm not going to medical. They didn't patch me up, and I'm not going on record with it."

"Nobody is going to think any less of you for needing to get patched up," she pointed out. "It's not like — look, are you gonna be stupid and macho about this?"

He held his hands up between them, shaking his head. "I promise, it's not a macho thing. I'm just not explaining myself to medical," he tried to explain. "I didn't randomly start bleeding after a date. Going there will blow my cover as soon as they see what it is."

"Then at least let Simmons look you over, huh? She's … well, she'll ask questions, but if you tell her not to blow your sneak or whatever, she _can_ actually keep a secret. Surprisingly," Skye insisted.

"Fine," he grumbled before he ran his hand through his hair. "But you're going to have to explain 'violent sleeper' in a lot more detail to me, because that sounds new and _totally_ counterproductive."

"Great — okay. Good. Let's just get you down to where my team is, then," Skye said with a nod, looking a little more embarrassed and red-faced now. "I'll tell her to pull her head out of the freaky psychic bond she's currently got going with Fitz for like five minutes to fix you up, and then you can stop _bleeding_. Seriously, what the heck — we could have gotten this _fixed_ forever ago."

"It _was_ fixed," he pointed out. "I just … move too much."

"You were sitting. In a chair. Typing. How is _that_ moving too much?" she demanded.

"You're awful pushy today," he grumbled, stopped in the hallway just to be obstinate. She narrowed her eyes and had to actually put a hand on his shoulder and give him a shove to get him moving again.

"That's what happens when my student bleeds all over himself and doesn't tell anyone. What were you gonna do if you just passed out on me, huh?"

"Hope it wasn't Fitz that showed up for mouth to mouth?" he teased, but when she gave him a dirty look for that one, he waved it off. "It really wasn't that bad enough for that. It'd stop on its own. Eventually."

"Oh no. No, stop sounding like my old trainer, because you two…. No. Just stop that."

"Hey, no reason to throw insults," he countered, looking genuinely hurt, even if he didn't mean it. "I'm doing what you asked, so just — don't."

"Fine, fine," she said, holding up her hands. "But if you pull this macho crap again, I'm _not_ holding back."

"The first time, it _had_ stopped bleeding on its own by the time I got back to base," Logan grumbled. "I was working off of past experience, not trying to be a pain."

"Still not a good answer," she pointed out as she shook her head at him all the way down to where her team was — and where Fitzsimmons had predictably taken over the entirety of the lab with half-completed specs and various ideas. They weren't even speaking in full sentences anymore, just tossing back and forth phrases like "what about—" and "but if we—" before diving in again.

"And he says they're not a thing," Logan half whispered to Skye.

"We all know they're in denial. It's not even a secret," Skye whispered right back before she put both hands on Logan's shoulders and pushed him ahead of her, then straightened up a bit. "Hey, Simmons!"

The young woman's head perked up on hearing her name, and when she saw Skye and Logan, she put down the specs she was pouring over and rushed over to the front of the lab, spotting the problem before she'd even reached them.

"What did you do _now_?" Simmons asked Logan in an almost exasperated tone.

"Breathing, apparently," he answered with a sigh. "I can _stop_ if it's inconvenient."

Simmons just shook her head and waved him over to sit down with a smile. " _Breathing_ shouldn't pull your stitches — I'll have to redo them; just hold still for a little bit," she told him, already gathering up supplies as Skye stared at her.

" _Re-_ do them?" Skye asked, her eyebrows high on her head as Logan glanced up at her while Simmons was guiding Logan to a gurney.

Simmons glanced at her friend over her shoulder. "Oh, right, yes. Well. I was a bit rushed the first time. I'm sorry about that, Logan — we'll make sure you can move and breathe just right as rain alright?"

"If you say so, darlin'," he answered as he unbuttoned his shirt for her to get to work, revealing the extensive bruises and the bloodied bandage before he laid back.

"Wait a minute — are you telling me you knew about this?" Skye asked, looking thunderstruck.

"I don't really ask questions when people come to me needing medical attention, Skye — I just stitch them. That's what you're supposed to do," Simmons pointed out, trying to keep her professional demeanor in spite of Skye's obvious look of betrayal.

"And I didn't _know_ about this?" Skye asked as Logan carefully kept his amusement to himself.

"You weren't there," Simmons defended with a little shrug. "And Fury wanted to keep it—"

"How could you not tell me about this?" Skye looked torn between proud and totally betrayed as she outright stared at Simmons while the young woman worked quickly on Logan. He had managed to tear out every single one of his stitches, which explained the big bloodstain.

"I'm sure she can make a note to inform you of all future boo-boos," Logan muttered, and Skye blushed as she gave him a half-hearted glare.

Rather than answer Skye, Simmons smiled at Logan. "You were doing more than just breathing to tear up all my hard work," she accused him, though without any real heat as she shook her head at the damage.

"Fury put me back into training this morning," he admitted. "It was fine until Ogun figured out where I was hurt and decided to make a lesson out of it."

"He did _not_." Simmons looked up at him and honestly looked mad, which wasn't a common look on her. "Ooh, I'm going to have to talk to … you can't — I am _not_ clearing you for training with — with — if you had a _proper trainer_ …!" She was scrunching up her face more and more as she spoke, clearly annoyed.

"It's fine," Logan tried to tell her, honestly attempting to defuse the situation, sitting up a little bit. "He's an ass, but he knows what he's doing."

Simmons gave him a _look_ , pushed him back down with one hand, and muttered under her breath some more about "dangerous trainers" and "unchecked sadism" before she finished up and finally took a step back. "Alright, those should hold much better," she told him. "But next time… next time I'm _going_ to have a _word_ with the director if he thinks… ugh!" She threw up the hand holding the used bandages.

"Thank you," Logan said, with the tiniest of crooked smiles her way as he leaned his head back "Prettiest stitcher in this building."

She just shook her head and smiled at him, ignoring the little blush. "I don't have any lollies, but I'm sure if you ask Skye, she'll find something," she said, finishing her clean-up as she spoke.

Skye rolled her eyes. "Yeah, all I have is leftovers from pizza last night in the mini fridge, so, you're out of luck," she told Logan.

"Story of my life," he shot back as he buttoned his shirt back up and shook his head. "Probably tomorrow then?" Logan said to Skye. "Looks like I need a change of clothes. Again." With that, he just hopped down off the table Simmons had him on, smirked Fitz's way, and then slipped out of the lab — with Skye giving the two scientists a very intense stink-eye.

"Seriously, what the heck?" Skye said when she was sure the door was solidly closed. "You don't think I should _know_ when one of my students might be severely distracted by an injury like that?"

"Oh, please," Fitz said, blowing out a breath of a laugh. "He's not going to be distracted by that … or did you miss all the flirting? Has he been like that all day?"

Skye narrowed her eyes and gave him an open-mouthed look. "I … what makes you say that? We were just … no." She turned back to the exit and stopped to turn around and give him a look. "Were you spying on us?"

"So that's a yes then?" Fitz replied, his arms crossed.

She frowned at him and pulled the door open. "No. Shut up," she said, almost glaring at him as she stepped through the door.

* * *

 _March 22_

 _Raft Prison, Undisclosed Location_

* * *

Most of Natasha's sessions with Charles had been conducted via video, simply because it wasn't possible for him to keep flying out there with the director of SHIELD all the time. The first two weeks had been the hardest that way, working through trigger words and other methods of control that had required one very big guard in the room — but Natasha was actually looking _forward_ to an in-person visit.

Not that she would ever admit that.

It would be nice to get to talk with Charles face-to-face, and they'd made some excellent progress getting rid of much of the programming in her head. Enough so that Charles felt confident he could set her on the path toward integrating with the rest of the Tahiti group. But that was something he could only truly gauge in person. There was only so much he could do over video calls.

The first sign that something was different about Natasha when Charles and Fury arrived was the fact that she didn't immediately move to the far end of the room when they arrived, instead staying where she was seated and looking up, tipping her head to the side to study them as the door closed behind them. "Hello again, Director," she said, nodding Fury's way, since he wasn't usually part of the video calls and merited a nod.

"Miss Romanoff," he replied with a nod her way as well. "I understand you're making some progress?"

"That's what they tell me," she said with a small smirk.

"And how are you handling the transition?"

She turned to look at him more fully. "Honestly, I'd just like to be done," she said, no trace of sarcasm in her voice. "I don't know how it looks from your end, but it's exhausting on this side."

"It looks like a whole lot of wading through things most people try hard to ignore," Fury admitted.

She lightly shrugged up one shoulder. "I don't really care about that part," she said. "I'd just like whatever is in my head out, so we can be done with all… this." She gestured around the room.

"Well that's encouraging," Fury said. "When we get done with all this … what is it you'd like to do?"

"I don't have any immediate plans," she admitted. She watched him carefully as she added, "I know that's not what you want to hear."

"I have a little present for you," Charles said when Fury had no response but to chuckle lightly at Natasha's answer. He made his way a bit closer to her with the box in his lap. "I hope you don't try to harm yourself."

"That depends on what you brought," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"Just a little something to help pass the time, I hope."

"That would be nice," she admitted. She didn't approach, instead letting Charles hand her the box, and when she pried open the lid to see the black pointe shoes inside, her eyes widened, and her lips parted the slightest bit. She quickly struggled to get the expression back under control as she looked up at Charles. "May I try them on? If they're not a precise fit, I _will_ hurt myself, even if I don't mean to."

"Please," Charles urged, relieved that the girl might want to consider something outside of fighting and sabotage. "We used what we could from the notes your stylist took, so I have faith that they will fit properly."

She looked between the two men for a moment, not sure how to react to the gift, so instead of finding what she hoped was a proper reaction, she instead focused on pulling the shoes on — though she stopped short of trying them out. She carefully flexed and bent her feet, rolling her ankles and feeling how they hugged her before she nodded once. "They're snug. That's perfect."

"Then I hope they bring you some enjoyment," Charles said with a little smile.

She still wasn't sure what reaction to give, so she simply nodded and studied the shoes for a moment longer. "I guess it's too late to point out that you can't have a dead girl dancer out in the real world," she said with the smallest of smirks.

"If it came down to it, I'm sure we could change your appearance if that's what you decided you wanted," Charles said.

She paused and looked up at him, surprised by the answer. "That seems like a lot of time and money spent with very little return on your part."

"To be honest, it's worth it to know we've done the job right," Fury replied.

She considered the answer for a moment before she had to sigh and nod. "I'll let you know. I still haven't decided."

"You still have a way to go before you're ready to make a decision," Fury said. "Take your time."

She frowned at him for a moment, still trying to figure out if there was an angle and still at a loss at how to react. She hadn't ever encountered anyone treating her like this without some ulterior motive, and she didn't know what to do with it. With a moment of hesitation, she paused, then unlaced the shoes with that same little frown. "Do you give everyone else who wakes up the same choice? I noticed Clint still looks the same, and he's going on missions for you."

"Clint wasn't fighting back anything so invasive as the Red Room," Charles said. "And he was given the option to fight with SHIELD or to find some other path."

"That seems to be the usual case," she said, seeming to consider something. "Have you ever had anyone say no?"

"We have," Fury admitted.

"And what happened to them?" she asked, watching them carefully.

"One of them lived for a while as a Capitolite before falling off the radar — and another … well. We don't talk much about her."

"Why not?" Natasha asked, her suspicions up again as she didn't take her gaze from Fury.

"She defected and allied with the other side."

Natasha seemed to consider this. "Willingly, you mean. Not like in my case," she surmised.

"She had gone into her Games with major PTSD, which we were largely unaware of. She came _out_ angry with everyone and abandoned her position mid-mission to feed what she knew about our program to the other side. We didn't know she was that far gone until she was _gone,_ or we would have tried to help her," Fury replied. "Charles' access wasn't as good until just this year."

Natasha's gaze never left Fury, and she waited for a moment, deciding whether or not she believed him before she just had to nod. "Alright." She paused again. "And if I decide someone else is worth fighting for other than SHIELD?"

"I'd try to educate you on why that's a tremendously bad life choice," he said with a stern expression.

"There would likely be some difficulties with that — we haven't exactly crossed that bridge yet," Charles admitted. "But no _harm_ would come to you as long as you're in our care."

She looked toward Charles for a moment, nodded, and then smirked Fury's way. "Don't worry — I have no plans to go back to the Red Room. But it's nice to know you care."

Charles smiled warmly at her, and Fury glared, still not trusting the way the girl was reacting or answering his questions.

Thankfully, Charles didn't pay Fury much attention on that matter as he moved into his session with Natasha. The hypnotism portion of the visit went much quicker than before, and Charles added a touch at the end that made sure that when Natasha came out of her trance after the session, she felt well-rested.

"We'll continue through video," Charles promised. "And with a little luck, I'll be back sooner in person."

Natasha nodded softly, though she still seemed to be thinking something over as Charles turned to leave. "Can I ask you something?" she blurted out.

"You can ask me anything," Charles replied with a perfectly open expression.

"The man I told you about. Windsor." There was a heat to her tone that hadn't been there before. "Have you killed him yet?"

"We have yet to find his _real_ name," Fury replied. "Windsor is an alias he used in Two, and we suspect that he had other aliases across several districts."

She nodded thoughtfully, chewing on her lower lip for a moment. It was still a hard thing for her to give away too much information, but this seemed important to her. "Watch your step with him," she said at last. "He's the one who put the device near my heart, and I _know_ I'm not the only one."

Fury stopped cold at that and seemed to be taking in her every movement, weighing her words. "Thank you, Miss Romanoff. I'll personally see to it that the matter is handled."

She watched his reaction for a moment. "So you'll tell me when he's dead." It wasn't so much a question as a statement, as she could tell he knew _something_ , at least.

"Yes, I will."

"Good." She nodded Fury's way before she shot Charles a little smirk. "I guess I'll see you around. Thank you for the shoes, really. They are _krasivaya._ " With that, she simply started to unlace them, paying no more attention to the men in the room until they were gone.

* * *

 _Translations from Japanese:_

 _Tatakai - fight_

 _Jakuten o kakusu koto wa dekimasen - Weakness cannot be hidden._

 _From Russian:_

 _Krasivaya - beautiful_


	52. Ding, Dong, the Vampire's Gone

**Notes: This chapter is just a whole lot of fun. We like to do those every once in a while in between torturing our characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 52: "Ding, Dong, the Vampire's Gone"**

* * *

 _March 25_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"Cassie! Cassie Lang!"

Cassie groaned a bit in her sleep, turning over so that she could pull the covers up higher to her shoulders. She was tired out after she and Ororo had run a simulation jumping out of planes, and while it had been _incredibly fun_ , she was also _very_ tired, since she and 'Ro had run it several times and had also practiced being the pilot for jumps.

She supposed that was what she got for mentioning her love of heights in front of Wraith. Rhodey would have just laughed and agreed with her, but that guy found a _tactical_ purpose for it. So rude.

But whoever was at her door just kept knocking insistently and calling her name in a very loud whisper — "Cassie Lang! Sweet, _sweet_ Cassie Lang!" — and now that she was awake, she finally realized who it had to be.

"Wade?" She cracked one eye open and finally pulled off the covers, glancing around for her other sock. She'd been wearing two when she went to sleep… there it was, bunched up underneath the blankets.

She pulled on her second sock, adjusted her pajamas so they weren't hanging off her shoulder, and flattened her hair a bit before she finally came to the door, where Wade was standing there with a full-on beaming grin, his hand still raised to keep knocking — though when he saw her, he quickly abandoned that to sweep her up into a spinning kiss.

She grinned up at him as soon as he let her feet touch the ground again. "What's the occasion?" she had to ask.

"It's monster killing season, and Agent Van Helsing's hunting vampires."

Cassie giggled a bit at that. "I thought we already knew that," she pointed out. "I mean, that's why you're standing here in my doorway kissing me, right?"

"Well. That and …just because I can." He grinned wider. "And I like to. Often."

"Yes, and you should," she had to agree with a grin to match his. "It's kinda fun."

"So, I thought we could spread the good news throughout _allll of TAHITI!_ " He said the last bit with one arm sweeping out as if he was Tanaleer Tivan presenting someone to the world.

"About Agent Van Helsing?" she said, still grinning.

"Yes. About his progress with the evil vampire."

The grin just widened. "What did he do now? I mean, he already got rid of the stupid rules…. And no one _has_ to have sessions with him…"

"Yes," he whispered into her hair as he spun her around one more time. "But his access to the good kids … is non-existent, as I understand it."

Her eyes widened at that, and she glanced up at him, clearly searching his expression for any sign that he was kidding, and when he didn't spring any 'gotcha' on her, she just popped right up on her toes to kiss him and then giggled delightedly. "That's the best news _ever_!" she declared happily. "We should so spread it. I just…" She glanced down at herself. "Do you think anyone will care I'm in my jams?"

"I sure don't; why would they?" He dropped down and turned his back to her. "Piggyback?"

She started to giggle again as she clasped her arms around his shoulders. "Let me know if you get tired," she teased.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen," he laughed before he just started shouting. " _HEAR YE, HEAR YE! Ye evile vampyre hath been BANISH-ED!"_

Cassie was giggling madly, still clinging onto Wade's shoulders as he ran up and down the residential halls, and the rest of the Tahiti kids started to poke their heads out in various stages of sleepiness and surprise.

"Define banished!" Sin called after him, her red hair sticking up in places.

"Remov-ed from thine premises here-to-fore," Wade paused, shook his head, and went back to his normal speaking voice. "Well. We don't have to put up with him."

The kids were gathering in the middle of the hallway as the disbelieving grins started up all around. "Is this a temporary thing?" Steve asked.

"Not from what I heard," Clint said with a smirk Wade's way — both of them clearly in on whatever eavesdropping had taken place for the news to spread.

"Are you sure, though?" Carol asked with one eyebrow raised. "I haven't heard anything."

"My precious, Cap-i-tan, it is _not_ April first. I am O-fended that you would even CONSIDER that I would _lie_ to you." Wade looked totally affronted by the suggestion and huffed her way.

Carol held up both of her hands. "Woah, tone it down, Deadpool," she said. "I'm just asking if you've checked your sources here."

"I made a list, checked it twice, know for SURE who's naughty … _and_ nice. And yes, yes my list is clean, my sources and intentions are pure — and it's good, pretty lady. It's so, so good."

"So when do we go find Agent Van Helsing and tackle him?" Ororo asked with a slowly growing smirk.

"I think you need to lead the charge on that, little lady," Wade said. "You _are_ our defacto leader."

"That's right I am," she laughed, lighting up with a little grin when both Steve and Kurt were just nodding as if this had always been the case. She glanced between the expectant faces before she just burst into, "What are we waiting for?" and took off down the hall, with the pajama-clad Tahiti forces just behind her.

Coulson, for his part, had only just arrived at his office and was going over the reports for the morning to gather up a team for a mission in the Capitol when he heard the excited knocking at the door — and knew from the various tempos that it was several people knocking at once. Though he definitely hadn't expected the entirety of the Tahiti program to come bursting through his door, nor had he expected Ororo to lead what basically amounted to a dogpile from the most huggable kids.

"Hail the conquering hero!" Wade declared from somewhere in the middle of the dogpile.

"As much as I appreciate the gesture, I don't know what you think I did," Coulson called out from under the tangle of limbs and laughter. .

"Come on, Van Helsing," Tony said, smirking from a few feet away from the dogpile. "It's not like anyone _else_ could have revoked the vampire's access."

"Actually, I'm not authorized to do that without orders from higher up," Coulson admitted.

"No way," Kate said, wriggling out from under the pile as it started to break up. "Your bosses suck, Coulson. No way."

"Well, Essex sucks too," Clint pointed out reasonably, grinning as he also pulled himself out of the dogpile. Kate gave him a little look, and he gave her a subtle nod, and she just dropped her jaw again.

"I'm _not_ hugging Fury," she told Coulson.

"It'd probably be better if you didn't," Coulson agreed. "He's not in as good of shape as he thought. You might kill him, and we still need him."

"Still," Kurt said as he reached over to Kate to pat her hair down where it had gotten mussed up in the pile. "This is cause for celebration. You should join us."

"We can make origami stakes out of your paperwork," Kate teased.

"And decorate the vacant office," Peter added.

"Line it with silver. Or... tin foil," Cassie offered. "Silver's gotta be hard to find."

"How about you just show me how good you've gotten in your training?" Coulson said, shaking his head. "I've been doing a lot of major prepping topside for some big shindig coming up in a few months. It oughta be a great distraction, I'm told."

Several of the kids pulled faces at the mention of the Games, even a sideways mention, though it was Clint who said, "Sure ... you got a mission in mind, Van Helsing?"

"Not yet, but very very soon. There will be a lot to do in preparation," Coulson replied. "And I think when it happens, you'll like what I have for you to do."

* * *

 _April 1_

 _Vents in the Tahiti Wing_

* * *

It was _way_ too early to be awake, and Kate had been sure to tell Clint that, but once he'd told her that he had plans for April Fool's, she had to admit that it was worth waking up for.

Of course, step one was a preemptive strike against Wade, who was clearly the most excited for April Fool's, and the two of them crept as quietly as possible through the vents until they got to Wade's room. The last time Kate had been on a mission in Six, she'd brought back a few paints for Steve, but this time, they had a little more than just artist supplies.

Wade was dead to the world asleep when they arrived, though that didn't last very long, as he was one of the few who knew the Hawks had been using the vents for their escapades and had apparently planned for them. He'd rigged a very loud horn and an explosion of glitter in both of their faces as soon as they climbed out of the grates.

So they were forced to abandoned stealth entirely.

The now very-sparkly Clint simply tackled Wade when he scrambled awake to his makeshift alarm, and the two of them fell into a wrestling match as Clint called over his shoulder, "Take your time, Katie Kate. Make it pretty."

Which just had Kate smirking to herself as she pulled out the bucket of purple paint and went to town rolling across his furniture, his mirrors, his walls. If Clint could give her enough time, the whole place would be purple, though Wade was putting up one heckuva fight for someone who'd just woken up.

And it didn't exactly help that Wade's trap had woken up most of the others, who were now rushing to investigate the noise only to find two very sparkly Hawkeyes and Wade — all three of whom were half coated in sparkles and purple paint by that point.

"How did you even…?" Steve stood in the doorway just staring at the spectacle as the two Hawkeyes and Wade were more or less in a paint war, though Kate definitely had the upper hand with her roller.

"Trade secret, Spangles," Clint called over to Steve with a wild grin at the slowly assembling group.

"Does this mean I'm getting inducted as a reserve Hawkeye?" Wade shouted as he got Clint into a good pin, only for Clint to throw an elbow that had him yelping — and the wrestling match started up all over again.

"Gotta shoot more than a rifle to do that," Kate shot back, now busily painting arrows on Wade's wall with what was left of the paint.

"Well I _would_ if you'd share the bows!" Wade countered.

"Ask for a practice set!" Kate shot back.

When Wade couldn't throw Clint back, he let out a breath and changed his tactics, opening by licking Clint's face. "Come on, punkin', give daddy a kiss."

" _AUGH!_ " Clint put his arms out straight to put as much distance between his face and Wade's as he could.

"No, no — you came into my bedroom, big boy," Wade muttered as he pulled Clint closer.

"Kate!" Clint called over his shoulder, still trying to get distance, and Kate dove in to help, putting her hand on Wade's face to push him back before she pulled Clint away, though now it was just a three-way wrestling match that the others were watching with steadily growing grins and chuckles.

"Well … he looks more like a Hawkeye now," Steve said with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kate called over her shoulder.

"Well. Purple … for one," Steve replied. "And … he can't seem to keep too far from Clint."

"So what does that make Clint?" Kate asked.

"Hawk-sugar daddy!" Wade replied joyfully, once again managing to land a kiss on his cheek.

"That is _so_ not a thing," Clint said, making a face.

"I thought it made him the mother duck," Peter chimed in as he and Kurt arrived to watch the show. "Seeing as you guys imprinted on him."

"I thought we all agreed Coulson is the mother hen," Clint said.

"And you're the mother duck," Wade said, grinning. "Quack, quack!"

"Face it, Clint," Kurt said, now chuckling and shaking his head to himself. "That's going to stick."

"Which makes 'Hawkeye' all mine," Kate crowed.

"Aww, c'mon, Katie. You already took it from me in the field!"

"It's okay. You'll learn to cope with your loss someday, mother duck," Kate told him in a consoling tone, though that just got Clint to turn and pounce on her, smearing paint across most of her face as he did so.

"Is there a reason that half of the room — and the occupants in it are covered in paint and glitter?" Coulson called out from behind the crowd that had formed outside of Wade's room.

The crowd parted to let Coulson through as the three April Fools continued their wrestling for just a second longer until Coulson was actually through the doorway, and then Clint grinned shamelessly up at him. "April Fools, sir," he said through a mouthful of glitter.

"And is there a reason that you've been… kissing Mr. Wilson?"

"Not by choice." Clint wrinkled his nose in Wade's direction with a clear look of distaste.

"Hey. I don't kiss and tell; you shouldn't either," Wade said.

"I don't know if it counts as kissing — what you two were doing," Kate pointed out with a shameless giggle.

"I can fix that," Wade said. "But for the record, he came lookin' for it!"

"Or," Coulson said with a pointed look at all three of them. "The three of you could hit the showers and then come back in here and clean up this mess."

"Can't we leave it up for April Fools?" Kate asked in a bit of a pout. "Took us forever to find the right shade of purple."

"It'll come off easier if you do it now," Coulson pointed out.

The three glitter-covered Tahiti kids all glanced at each other and let out a sigh that was practically in tandem. "I _guess_ ," Wade said dramatically.

"Make sure it's done by the time I get back to see how your class is coming," Coulson said.

"Well, I can only guarantee the paint," Clint said, still rubbing glitter off his mouth. "This stuff sticks."

" _That_ wasn't ours," Kate put in.

"Found it in the Capitol," Wade said airily. "Some genius stylist is missing a tube of glitter somewhere."

Coulson shook his head at all three of them before he decided to leave the nonsense of an entire group of teenagers blowing off steam on April Fool's Day before they came up with any other bright ideas.

Of course, he should have known better than to hope the kids he had upstairs were any better than the ones downstairs, as the second he walked through the door into the offices his team occupied, the _Dracula_ theme played, and all three of his youngest team members were simply cackling.

"Is this what you've been putting all your time into?" Coulson asked in an almost tired tone.

"Are you kidding? That program took me all of half an hour to write, tops," Skye said, waving her hands.

"And the speaker system was so easy to hook up," Fitz agreed.

"And really, it suits you," Simmons said with a sedate smile. "It really does."

"Are you going to be able to finish the work on your schedules today, or is it just a full day of pranking?" Coulson asked.

"Re- _lax_ , AC," Skye said, grinning at him. "We already got you, and _nobody's_ stupid enough to get May, so we're all good here."

But as for the last member of the team, May had let herself into Fury's office that morning and got right down to work. She put one of Fitz' cameras exactly where she wanted it to be to capture the moment Fury got hit, and then she crouched down behind his desk and methodically removed the screws from the seat.

She was smirking widely to herself by the time she stood back up — only to turn and see that Fury's office was no longer unoccupied, and Logan was leaning in the doorway watching her with his arms crossed over his chest. "Well. Good morning," she said with a little smirk.

"Morning," he replied as he kicked himself out of the doorframe, his gaze on her as he stepped inside. "Get 'em all?"

She smirked even wider and opened her hand to show him. "Can you keep a poker face, or is that just Skye telling lies?"

"Me? Poker face? I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, perfectly calmly as he made his way over to the coffee maker that already held a full pot, freshly brewed.

She just chuckled. "Make sure you sit across from him so you can see it go down."

"I'll go one better and make sure he's got a mug of coffee in his hands."

"Please and thank you," she said before she ducked out of the office to go do the same to Maria Hill's chair.

She was barely gone from Fury's long enough for Logan to get a cup of coffee poured for himself when Fury swept in and snatched it out of his hands on his way to his desk — already in a bit of a mood.

"That wasn't very nice," Logan muttered as he turned to pick up a second cup. "Stuff like that'll come back to bite you."

Fury gave him a glare that had no heat to it. "You mean like all the cigars you've been stealing from me? Or maybe the whiskey that keeps going missing?"

"I figure after the second one, you put it there for me on purpose," Logan replied as he took the seat May had pointed out for him even before Fury could sit down.

Fury shook his head and sat down in his chair — only to go sprawling with a curse as he hit the floor and the coffee went with him while Logan leaned back to sip from his mug. "Need help getting back up, old man?"

"Who did this?" Fury half bellowed.

"No idea," Logan replied calmly. "I only know a handful of people, and none of them were here, so I guess I'd blame Karma."

But before Fury could question him on it, there was a very loud and very long set of curses screamed out down the hallway, only half of which were in English, before Maria Hill came out of her office looking she might spit nails.

"Give me the camera feed," she called out to Fury before she was even all the way in the door, the clear marks of coffee stains spreading over her front.

"Well, Good morning, Maria Christina Hill, Assistant Director of SHIELD," Logan muttered with his head tipped back.

"So help me if you're on that tape, Logan…."

"I'm on a lot of tapes, but that ain't one of 'em," he replied.

She glared at him before she looked toward Fury, fully intending to demand the camera tapes again, and instead paused when she saw that he was also wearing the contents of his coffee mug. "Rough morning, sir?" she asked with the beginnings of a smirk.

"Apparently he's goin' for the wet and wild look today," Logan muttered before he took another pull off his mug.

"Well I'm sure we can all rest easy knowing the director has such tight security on his desk chair," she said as she reached over and stole Logan's mug right out of his hand to drink the rest of it.

He let out a little noise of disbelief before he got up again. "You're welcome," Logan muttered as he headed over to get yet _another_ mug of coffee.

She smirked his way and went to take his now unoccupied chair— only to immediately end up flat on the floor again and swearing up a blue streak, red in the face. " _That one was you_!" she accused Logan as she scrambled back up.

"How do you figure?" Logan asked with the beginning of a scowl as he leaned on the counter near the coffee pot.

"No way do you weigh less than me, and I don't see you wearing your coffee," she pointed out.

"Maybe that's just karma biting you in the ass too."

She glared at him for a good long moment before she swept out of the room, leaving Fury chuckling at the expression on her face before he got to his feet — and promptly snatched Logan's coffee again. "I think you've had enough of that this morning," Fury said. "Time to get to work."


	53. Spring is in the Air

**Notes: Oh, look. The trend of cute, happy chapters is continuing. How strange to see in a Hunger Games universe omg. In our defense? It is between the Reaping and the tour? So. breathing room. Also. these marshmallows could NOT handle it otherwise. Mkay?**

* * *

 **Chapter 52: "Spring Is In The Air"**

* * *

 _April 3_

 _Fashion Arena, Capitol_

* * *

With April nestled halfway between the victory tour and the Reapings, the Capitol was sure to have some kind of event to keep the Games at the forefront of everyone's minds, particularly Thanos, who seemed to be impossible to deal with unless there was something Games-related going on.

So, during the first weekend in April, the stylists did what they did best — they put on a show, showcasing their latest designs as well as announcing the teams for this year's Games, since there were always a few who were dismissed or who quit in such a high-pressure job.

Everyone related to the Games attended, including the victors, though some of them were actually entertained by the frenetic energy of some of their stylists. It was always fun to watch Eight's entire prep team — not to mention the hilarity of Noh and Jubilee pretending in the least convincing way that they weren't flouting the rules by already dating before he had even technically quit. Dazzler's displays were always a show-stopper as well, and really, the whole thing was the most light-hearted part of the constant Games reminders, so most of the victors were just running with it by that point, doing their best to enjoy the show that their clearly-excited stylists were putting on.

Of course, as with any party in the Capitol, there were politicians, rich higher-ups, and the usual crowd of Capitolites that no one wanted to deal with, but that was par for the course at this point.

The tables at the venue were relatively small — supposedly to encourage conversation among the guests so that they could flit from table to table and engage with some of the stylists, so when Rhodey and Sam dropped into the two seats across from Jess and Logan, they filled up the table. The other victors were more spread out, with Quill of course with the high-powered types and Creed far from the others with his group of weird admirers. Bobbi was at a table with Viper and Osborn, though Logan could see the two women sharing glances that meant both of them wanted to stab Osborn, so likely the conversation wasn't going well.

Rhodey and Sam both were listening to Jess recount how the little stylist team in Eight had actually kicked Norman Osborn out of the suite when he got in the way of their work — she was very proud of GoGo in particular — when Rhodey spotted a familiar face in the crowd and smirked a bit.

"Wonder who she's looking for today," Rhodey said, nudging Sam in the shoulder, and his friend looked up to see the tall blonde woman chatting easily with some of the escorts who had come for the show.

"No telling," Sam said with a light shrug, though now that Jess had followed their gazes, she had a _look_ on her face. It wasn't disgust or annoyance, just… mild frustration.

"You meet Seraph yet?" Rhodey asked Logan, tipping his head toward the blonde woman.

"Briefly," he replied.

"She's what we in the business like to call 'weird,'" Sam said with a small smirk.

"Pretty sure that's the whole crowd," Logan pointed out.

"Ah, but this one is nice to us. For no reason," Rhodey countered. " _Weird_."

"Everyone has a reason," Jess told the two victors with a sigh.

"Yeah, and her reason is she's an eccentric," Rhodey said, shaking his head lightly. He leaned over to Logan as he added. "You know one time she bought out a whole week with me just to ask me to teach her how to fly an antique plane? Whole week in a cockpit."

"You're creepin' me out with your euphemisms, Rhodes," Logan said dryly.

"No, it was a bomber from one of the wars before Marvel," Rhodey said with a wide grin.

"Yeah, you can stop anytime."

But Sam just smirked. "Handled like a dream too," he supplied helpfully.

"Got it. You both got a thing for cougars," Logan concluded, his focus firmly on his whiskey.

Sam and Rhodey just shared a look and smirked even wider. "You'll see," Sam told him.

"I hope Nebula takes an interest in both of you," Logan shot back.

Both of them made faces at that. "That's a horrible thing to wish on a person," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Especially when you factor in her other half," Logan said. "All yours."

"See, this is what we get for trying to help," Rhodey said, shaking his head.

"You're not trying to help, you're wishing a crazy woman on me," Logan defended. "I'm just doing the same."

"Nah, we just know she'll come find you eventually," Sam said with a shrug. "She makes it a point to meet all the victors, drink tea, and chat. It's downright personable, and it creeps me out. So we thought we'd give you fair warning about the weird Capitolite coming your way."

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, wishing the stupid party would be over with. This wasn't his thing, no matter how many they made him go to.

The conversation had turned, though, since both Sam and Rhodey were pilots and seemed to be trading stories about some of their favorite Capitol-sanctioned flights — neither of them were dumb enough to mention anything else in public — and Jess had gone to get another round of drinks when, in fact, Seraph did make her way over with a genuinely pleasant-looking smile.

"You look like you'd rather be, well, anywhere but here," she observed as she glanced over at Logan before she smiled at the other two victors as well. "Sam, James — how are you?"

"Same old," Sam replied with a shrug.

"How's the plane treating you?" Rhodey asked.

Seraph grinned at him. "I love it. I'll have to ask one of you over later, though — I think there's a sputtering in the engine that I just can't figure out."

"Rhodey's better at the inner workings," Sam admitted. "Guy likes to take stuff apart."

"Well, everyone needs a hobby," Seraph said with a little shrug. She looked up to see that Jess was returning with drinks for the group and stood up from the chair. "I didn't mean to steal your spot."

"You didn't," Jess said, eyeing her warily.

Seraph shrugged at that before she turned to Logan. "Would you mind if we took a walk outside? I'm not asking to parade you in front of the cameras — we can take the back way. I just need to get away from all this…" She waved her hand to indicate the entire building. "It's stifling."

He glanced around the room to see where Fury was and wasn't disappointed to find him watching. The director very subtly nodded his head, and Logan tried very hard not to roll his eyes as he got to his feet with a sigh. "Lead the way."

She grinned and took him by the arm, headed out through a side door where, as she'd said, there weren't cameras to crowd them. Almost as soon as the door had closed, she let go of his arm and shook her head, letting the smile fade away into something that looked more genuine, with one corner of her mouth upturned.

" _Thank you_ ," she breathed out. "I really needed the excuse. Worthington has been following me all day wanting to talk business, and I can't _stand_ him."

"If he's pestering you, I doubt I'll be much of a deterrent," Logan pointed out. "He didn't mind taking up time talking to me the last three or four parties I had to go to."

"Yes, well, Sam and James are nice, but they're useless around him too. I thought I'd take my chances, and Jessica doesn't seem to like me very much." Seraph let out a little laugh. "In fact, she'd probably throw me under the bus."

"I doubt that somehow," he replied.

She just laughed at that and gave his arm a little squeeze. "I'm Seraph, by the way. I don't think I ever introduced myself — sorry about that."

"We met before," Logan said, watching her carefully.

"That wasn't really a meeting," she said, waving her hand. "At the time, it had looked like you and Jessica were having a rough moment, and really, with everything else going on, I didn't think you needed _that_ on top of it. She can carry a grudge, you know. James told me stories."

"She's not the only one," Logan replied.

She waved her hand at him for a moment before she let out a breath and fell silent, seeming to enjoy not having to talk to anyone for the time being as they walked over the deck that lined the entire building and looked out over the gardens. It was some time before she said anything at all, and when she did, it was simply, "You don't mind keeping me company, do you? I'm really not much for conversation right now."

"I don't believe that, but no, I don't mind."

She smirked his way for a second. "Well, _you're_ really not much for conversation, but I was trying to spare your feelings. My mistake."

"That seems to go against the general thought process around here," he commented.

"What, silence?" She chuckled. "But then how would you know every dim-headed little thought in their shallow minds?"

"I'd rather not."

"Then that's where I'll have to disagree. It's much more refreshing to know where a person stands than to wonder," she said. "Even lies are telling. How do you think I've survived in the business world so long?"

"Couldn't tell you," he said with a light nod. "I don't know your business."

"Oh, where to start," she said, shaking her head. "I've bought out so many failing companies, I don't think I have _one_ business anymore, but I let my accountant deal with most of it."

"All the better to free you up for the parties," he said as he kept his gaze to the gardens.

"Yes, I'm starting to see the flaw in the logic," she had to laugh. "I do actually enjoy them sometimes. But when I have to deal with certain people, it's just… It stops being fun _very_ quickly." She turned to face him suddenly. "How is Peter?" she asked. "Really."

He frowned at that and narrowed his eyes slightly. "You should ask him yourself," Logan said.

"I can't — his _fiance_ has him on a tight leash," she said with a look of disdain.

"Then I guess you have your answer."

"Just tell me he doesn't have plans to do anything drastic. I saw the picture in the paper," she said. "Anyone with eyes can see he was a few seconds away from fainting."

"I don't talk about the others," Logan replied. "If you want to know about them, they're all here."

"That's fair," she said, though she clearly sounded disappointed. "But you don't talk about yourself much either."

"Nothing to say."

"See?" she said, gesturing at him. "Not much for conversation."

"Good thing that's not in the job description."

"The only thing in the job description is the requirement that you kill children and then come out and smile for us," she pointed out.

"Well I got half of it."

"Is that why Nebula didn't keep you?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye, then quickly held up one hand. "You don't have to tell me anything that would get you in trouble. I'm just curious."

"You'd have to ask her," he replied. "I didn't get the checklist on what she did and didn't appreciate."

"I really, really don't want to ask her," Seraph admitted, then sighed heavily. "You are no good for satisfying my curiosity, you know that?"

He smirked her way. "Also, not in the job description."

"I can't even argue that," she said. "Which is a little disappointing. I have to admit, I liked Peter when he came through, and I just — didn't expect Gamora to move that quickly. I'm _dying_ to know what happened, but those two…" She shook her head. "I don't scare easily — not anymore — but the princesses _disturb_ me. I'm not going anywhere near them if I don't have to."

"Good policy, I'm told."

"It keeps most of us alive, yes," she said with a little nod. She paused and seemed to consider something. "I did have an ulterior motive asking you to come out here with me. Which, at this point, I don't think should surprise you."

"Not even a little," Logan replied, still not looking her way.

"I bought out a bit of time with you," she admitted openly. "I know you're supposed to wait to be formally told, but I wanted to get to know you first before you came over expecting… well. How the game is usually played."

Logan crossed his arms and waited for whatever it was she had to say, clearly uncomfortable.

She sucked in a breath and looked sincerely apologetic. "I'm sorry to corner you like that."

"Gettin' used to it," he said through his teeth.

She watched him for a moment and looked suddenly uncomfortable herself before she let out a sigh. "Sorry — I'll let you go back to your friends. I've stolen enough of your time."

"What do you want?" he asked, half glaring her way. "Really."

"I told you," she said. "I just wanted to get to know you. Not because you were told to talk to me or anything like that. I simply want a little honesty."

"Sounds like a load," Logan replied. "Honesty. Is that all you got outta this?"

She stopped to consider it. "That, and you don't appreciate being lied to either," she said at last.

"I don't know of anyone who does," Logan pointed out.

"But you can spot it better than most people," she said. She paused again before she added, "And you're loyal to your friends. That much is obvious too."

"For the circles you run in — that's common knowledge. On both counts."

"The circles that I run in are full of lies," she said. "For all I knew, you just read the financials closely." She had a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. "That particular story is getting more entertaining with every retelling in the financial circles."

"I'm sure it's worth a laugh."

"As for loyalty… I just had to see for myself." She leaned forward as Logan bristled. "For the record, if you _had_ told me about Peter, I would have made sure to tell him and his friends not to trust you."

"Maybe I should then."

"See? The second reaction is always more calculated," she said. She gave him a little smile as she turned to leave. "Thank you for talking with me."

Logan glared at her retreating figure, then let out a breath as he returned to the railing. Even the most benign of Capitol parties was filled with double talk and people looking to take advantage. The fact that he couldn't simply ditch it was positively depressing.

* * *

 _April 5_

 _Briefing Room in the Tahiti Wing_

* * *

"I hope you can keep this professional," Coulson said as he looked at the expressions on Kurt and Kate's faces. "This is not an opportunity to go sight-seeing."

"Oh, definitely. We can definitely be professional," Kate said, though she was grinning widely and nodding more times than was strictly necessary.

"Good," Coulson said, trying to keep the smirk from getting any bigger. " I need bugs in all the areas that people know are safe for more free speech."

"How long are you giving us?" Kate asked with her best attempt at a straight face.

"You have a terrible poker face," Coulson told her, though he wasn't doing much better at schooling his own expression. "I'm allowing a full night for each district."

She grinned even wider and glanced over at Kurt, who was doing a little better at keeping a straight face, since he didn't know what Kate did — which was that District Twelve was small enough that it wouldn't take long at _all_ to get everything set up… and then go sight-seeing anyway. "Sounds good to me," she said.

"Goes without saying — Don't be seen by anyone," Coulson repeated for what had to have been the third time. At _least_. "No secret messages to _anyone._ No communication at all to _anyone_ in the district. I'm putting myself on the line for this, but I think you're the best ones to handle your own district."

"Come on, Van Helsing," Kate said with a wide grin. "Would we let you down?"

"Especially when you've been so good to slay vampires for us?" Kurt asked with a crooked smirk.

"You better not," he replied, ignoring Kurt's commentary all together.

The two of them turned the full force of twin smiles his way. "So, when do we leave?" Kurt asked, leaning back in his chair and pulling Kate's hand with him as she was clearly thrilled to pieces to get to go home, even for a little while.

"As soon as you're ready," Coulson said. "On your way out, send in Rogers and Ororo. They're going out too."

"Five or Eleven?" Kate asked curiously.

"Yes," Coulson replied.

Kurt brightened up at that. "So, when are we going to Nine?"

"As soon as you're done with Twelve," Coulson replied, unable to stow his own smirk at seeing how delighted she was.

Kate took one look at the _huge_ grin on Kurt's face then rushed over and gave Coulson a kiss on the temple. "Thanks, Dad," she teased him. "We'll obey all the rules and be back for curfew."

"Go on — don't do anything to make me regret this," he said with a little wave that hid the incredibly pleased expression only half as well as he meant it to.

The two of them grinned all the wider, though that really shouldn't have been possible, as they headed out to the hangar to prep, sending Steve and Ororo to Coulson with promises that "you're going to like this one."

They were both geared up and ready to go in record time, sure to stop by the lab to get some of the bugs from Hank before they left, since the little miniature, moveable cameras were quickly becoming SHIELD's best source of intel, as they were unlikely to be noticed.

Still, it was clear that both of them were _ready_ to get moving, and all the way out to Twelve, Kate was telling Kurt about her home in great detail.

"We probably won't see my dad's house at all; no one goes to the merchant center to talk because there's too many pro-Capitol ties there," Kate said. "You know— the mayor, my dad, a few other sleazy types." She grinned and shrugged it off. "But that's fine with me. I never really liked that place anyway. Best spots are where me and my friends patrolled, so honestly, we might actually have to be careful not to get caught, because we basically _ruled_ those streets."

"I thought you spend most of your time over the fence," Kurt said, his chin in his hand as he was smiling to himself watching and listening to Kate gush about her home.

"Well, _I_ did, and so did America, but the others were more in charge of things like getting the food out, making sure no one starved or froze overnight — or if they did, that they were moved somewhere kids wouldn't see, that sort of thing," Kate said, and Kurt had to pause and frown a bit, wondering if Kate knew exactly how depressing that sounded.

But she didn't seem to realize it at all, going on to tell Kurt about the ingenious system of food delivery that her friend Nate had figured out and the time Billy and Teddy almost got caught out after curfew, and were saved only when Teddy successfully impersonated a Sentinel's voice and kept the interested officials away from discovering their illegal hunting catch.

She beamed her way through telling her stories all the way up until the drop point, and Jan waved them off with a reminder that she would be back to pick them up at dawn.

As soon as Jan had taken off again, Kate looked over at Kurt and grabbed his hand, the excitement written all over her face. "It's nice to be home," she said, glancing around at the trees surrounding them. Even in the dark, it was easy to see that spring was starting in earnest in District Twelve. The flowers were poking out of the melted snowbanks, and petals were already strewn over some of the paths, falling from the magnolia trees and dogwoods.

Kurt grinned and allowed Kate to lead him through the forested area, thick with brush and taller trees. It was obvious that no one from the district was _supposed_ to be out there by how thickly the flora grew in places, as if no one had been through there in years. But Kate seemed to know the path by heart, even pointing out places where Kurt might have fallen into trouble himself — a hidden drop obscured by gnarled tree roots, a stony area where the footing was a bit unstable.

She had a good hold of his hand for most of the trip just in case he lost his footing — and also because she was so excited to introduce him to her home. As they moved, Kate pointed out a few other markers, faded strips of fabric that meant her friends had laid a trap, and other paths that she thought Kurt should know about. Like the one that led up to a lake that Kate promised they absolutely _had_ to go see once they finished up in the district.

They finally got closer to the fence line, and Kate signalled to Kurt to be quiet. She hardly gave him any warning before she pulled him to the ground, though he didn't argue, sure that she had seen something he hadn't.

Sure enough, a dark figure passed by them in the woods, far enough away that Kurt could only see her as a silhouette, though he had heard Kate describe America Chavez enough times that he was fairly sure that's who it was, based on the frizzy hair and the way she moved. The fact that Kate was watching with an almost forlorn look sealed the deal, and as soon as America had moved on to check other traps, she let out a sigh.

"I miss her. I miss all of them," she admitted to Kurt at a whisper.

Kurt watched her for a moment before he reached over and tipped up her chin toward him to give her a quick kiss. "Then let's get going. You still haven't shown me your district and the home you and Cassie are always talking about."

The two of them slipped through the night to the fence line, and as they followed it, Kate told Kurt about the first time she had ever gone over the fence with America — and how they had to be rescued after getting stuck upside down in the tree.

"Bad start?" he asked with a little smirk.

"Bad start," she agreed before she came to a stop, right in front of where one tree had partially overgrown the fence line. She had her hands on her hips as she frowned up at it. "Okay," she said. "Here's the thing. Now we have to get up there."

"I thought you did this all the time."

"Yeah, but I had America on my team, and no offense, but she's way stronger than you."

Kurt had to smirk at that. "I'll try not to be offended until after I meet her."

Kate chuckled at him and then seemed to study the tree before she looked over at Kurt. "You know what? You're taller than America... let's try something. Gimme a boost."

Kurt raised an eyebrow for a moment before he simply made a stirrup with his hands, and Kate clambered up until she was standing on his shoulders. She gave a small cry of triumph when her hands closed around the tree limb, and for a moment, she shifted around, so that now she was hanging upside down. She reached out and grabbed him by the wrists, and he swung his legs up as well. With Kate pulling and Kurt using his every muscle to try and hook his feet over the edge, they finally managed it.

Panting, they both slid down the other side of the tree, though Kate paused to examine one branch in particular.

"This is where I stashed my bow," she said, pointing. "I wonder what's happened to it now."

Kurt took Kate's other hand. "I'm sure America's taking very good care of it. From what you've told me, I'm sure she realizes how important it is to you."

Kate nodded, her gaze lingering on the tree for a while longer before she grinned again and pulled Kurt along.

Kate was already placing bugs as she went, since the district was small, and she knew that most of the best places to meet in secret were on the outskirts anyway, and they worked quickly as Kurt tried to take every opportunity to look around the small, clearly very poor district. The ramshackle buildings hardly qualified as houses, and there was sort of a dreary feeling of malaise lingering over the streets, as if the whole thing might collapse at the slightest provocation.

Which really only made her sunny disposition all the more amazing.

Kate beamed his way as she pulled on his hand to lead him around, still setting bugs in what Kurt thought were strange places but what Kate assured him were good drop points for her team and therefore places where people gathered. "That's where Tommy lives," she said, pointing to one of the shambled homes. "I mean, that's where he lives when he's not in trouble with the Sentinels."

They continued along through what seemed to be the worst part of town, and Kurt noticed that some of the houses were barely standing and seemed almost to be leaning against each other for support. She called out another house where Billy and Teddy lived, but still they pressed deeper into the dingiest streets until she stopped outside toward what could only charitably be called a shack.

"And this," she said quietly. "This is our headquarters."

Kurt simply had to stare at the small space, remembering all the stories that Kate and Cassie had told about their little group in Twelve. There weren't many names, but he was sure Cassie had mentioned actually _living_ there with a few of their members. But it hardly looked like there was enough space for three people to stretch out, let alone live. He wondered if the cellar door he could see gave them any more space — or if that was even livable, considering the state of the rest of the shack.

He wondered if Kate was aware of exactly how small her district was. Even back in Nine, things had been… more livable. A little brighter, less dreary.

"It's not much," Kate said, seeing the look on Kurt's face, "but it's more of a home than my house ever was."

Kurt smiled and squeezed her hand. He decided not to ask how on earth she managed to find such brightness in a place like this and instead asked, "Anywhere else we should go?"

She squeezed his hand right back for a moment and shook her head. "Just the school, and then we should head back. If America's out tonight, the rest of the team may be too."

The two of them made quick work of things, placing their bugs at the aging school before they headed back to that same tree at the fence line, again boosting each other over the lightly humming fence and making their way through the trees, though Kurt couldn't help but notice that they weren't taking the same path that they had taken to get there.

"Where are we going?"

"To go see if the lake is clear tonight."

"And if it's not?"

She shrugged. "Then we'll find somewhere else. But I'm really hoping no one else is at the lake."

Kurt nodded, smiling to himself at the excitement in Kate's voice, though he had to admit that he wasn't expecting the long trek out to wherever this lake was. Though he had to admit, when they climbed over the edge of a ridge and he could see the lake for himself — it was worth it.

The lake was a perfect sparkling blue, wide and untouched and quiet. A small rushing noise told him that there was some kind of river or creek feeding into the lake, but he couldn't see its source.

"Well?" Kate was beaming at Kurt. "What do you think?"

"I see why you like it here," Kurt said with a grin. "It's…peaceful."

Kate nodded, leading him down the ridge to an outcropping of rock where they could see out over the entire lake. She folded her legs up underneath her and then released his hand so that she could lean back on her arms, looking up at the night sky. "I used to come here all the time. Sometimes with my friends, sometimes by myself." She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. "It's the perfect hideaway. Nothing can touch you here — not the Games, not hunger, not Sentinels…" She sighed.

Kurt scooted closer until he was side by side with Kate, their arms touching, and he looked up at the sky as well. "You know," he said, bumping her shoulder slightly, "there's probably a line here about the stars and your eyes or smile or something, but for the life of me, I can't think of one. I'm too tired."

She grinned. "I guess we'll just have to stay here until you get your second wind or come up with something clever."


	54. Memory Lane

**Notes: Look! More fun things! What a novel concept! :P**

* * *

 **Chapter 54: "Memory Lane"**

* * *

 _April 5_

 _District 11_

* * *

Ororo and Steve were an entirely different story as they traipsed through the orchards in Eleven to the hidden places far from the center of the district that all of the workers liked to gather. Of course, Eleven was hard to hit at night, considering that all of the people that would be talking would be _there_ relaxing and trying to get away from the dull misery of the work they were doing in preparation of the season.

Right now, in the earliest parts of spring, the orchards were filled with workers that were trimming and pruning the trees for the best possible blossoms to thrive. However, it was early enough still that those that were in the ramshackle establishments were on duty still anyhow — set to build fires should the spring frost come up to try and kill the tender blossoms starting to appear on the trees.

But Ororo couldn't stop grinning as she pulled Steve along behind her and the two of them made a game out of dropping bugs into the windows of the buildings lining the orchard where the workers gathered.

As soon as they'd done most of what they'd set out to do, she made sure to drag him off to show him around her homeland under the relative safety of darkness until they found the spot that marked the entrance to Eleven's secret vibranium mines. They didn't dare get too close because the security was too tight — but Pym's amazing moving cameras could cover that on their own as long as they got halfway close and told Hank to get to work as soon as they did.

"Come on," Ororo said. "That's all we can do here, and Hank won't be able to translate it without me or Luke."

"Fine by me," Steve said with a little smirk. "I could use a little air conditioning."

"Aww, Cap, is the humidity getting to you?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Just a little bit," he laughed lightly. "I can't believe it's still this hot in the dark."

Ororo just laughed and pulled Steve forward by the arm. "Come on," she said. "The big bad captain is scared of the heat…"

Steve started to argue, but he found that he really couldn't with how widely Ororo was grinning, so he just laughed and let her lead the way back to the jet.

* * *

 _April 6th_

 _District Nine_

* * *

When Kate and Kurt arrived in District Nine, the first thing that Kate said was, "It's so… flat."

Kurt had to chuckle at her observation. Kate's home district was filled with trees that grew on the low mountains and foothills, but Kurt had sweeping fields, and he was partial to the wide meadows during the springtime. He took a deep breath, just enjoying the _air_ in Nine, and Kate watched him for a moment with a little smile.

"I like that look on you," she told him as she reached over and grabbed his hand.

He smiled a bit sheepishly. "It's been a long time— and I miss being home."

Kate nodded and leaned into him. "Why don't you show me around while we do our thing?"

The two of them made their way through the district hand-in-hand, but unlike in Twelve, where everything was relatively close together and even the mines were easy to get to and bug — there was a lot of _empty space_ where there were nothing but fields of freshly tilled dirt that would soon be sprouting wheat, corn, and other crops.

But that didn't seem to bother either of them as they strolled through the turned-up fields together and it was Kurt's turn to tell stories about his home district.

He told her about how he had started working in the fields when he was old enough so that he could help his mother take care of the twins, and he told her about how Kitty would _always_ finish work before he did and try to sneak up on him.

"I think it annoyed her that I could sneak up on her and scare her, but truth be told, Kitty is one of the sneakiest people I've ever met. I just tried very hard not to cry out when she scared me," Kurt admitted, and Kate had to giggle a bit at that.

When they finally hit the main part of the district, though, Kurt's stories seemed to gain a little more momentum. He pointed out several streets that they could bug, and Kate couldn't help but smile at the fact that he seemed to remember the names of every family that lived on every corner.

"And that was our climbing tree," Kurt said when they reached the tall, slightly gnarled tree toward the center of the residential areas.

"You and Kitty?" Kate asked.

Kurt nodded and let out the slightest of sighs. "I miss her," he admitted. "Just like you miss America. She was my best friend, and I can only pray she's alright."

Kate glanced between the tree and Kurt and rushed over to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him tight, not letting go for some time as they stood under the tree on the moonless night and she asked him to tell her more stories while she buried her face in his neck and shoulders and hugged the stuffing out of him.

They set a few more bugs, and then Kate caught Kurt staring down one street in particular. "That your place?" she asked carefully.

He let out a sigh. "Yes," he admitted. "But I'm afraid if I go any further, I won't stop at just looking at it."

She looked him up and down for a moment before she grabbed his hand again and started to pull him along. "Alright. We're going to the rooftops," she informed him.

He didn't argue with her in the slightest, instead simply grinning to himself as he climbed up the brickface of one of the nearby buildings. It was easy to stick to the shadows and keep from being seen or heard after they'd done this kind of thing so often in sneaking simulations, and it took them next to no time before they were on the roof of the house directly across from Kurt's.

It was the middle of the night, so of course, no one was awake, but Kurt laid out on his stomach, his chin propped up on his arms as he drank in the house in front of him.

Kate was silent for some time, quietly watching him before she settled down next to him and gave him a quick little peck on the cheek. "Tell me about them," she whispered quietly. "Tell me about Margali, and the twins, and your home. I know you've told me a bit, but tell me again. Or tell me more."

Kurt glanced over at Kate and half held his breath for a moment, not quite trusting the emotion in his voice not to give him away — but he finally started, very quietly, to tell stories. Amanda falling and scraping her knee. Stefan getting his two front teeth knocked out playing soccer. Margali finding any story she could get her hands on to read to the kids.

By the time they absolutely _had_ to leave or risk missing their rendezvous with Jan, Kurt's voice was thick from overuse, and he was reluctant to move now that he was so close to his house, knowing the twins would be up soon after dawn to start working now that he was no longer there.

But Kate reached over, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into a long, tender kiss. "When this whole secret Tahiti nonsense is over, we're coming back here," she promised. "And I want to meet them."

"Katherine Bishop," he said, half-teasing and half-disbelieving. "Are you asking to meet my family?"

Even in the pitch darkness of the night, it was obvious that Kate was blushing wildly. "I just… I…" She took a breath. "They seem so nice, the way you talk about them. You're totally going to have to meet my friends in Twelve too."

He grinned wider at that and decided not to tease her and point out that would mean meeting _her_ family as he took her hand and finally, _finally_ allowed her to lead him back the way they'd come, leaving the Wagner household behind them in the lingering light of the first hours of dawn.

* * *

And they weren't the only ones out and about hitting the common gathering places across Marvel. For the most part, the members of TAHITI were doing the same job — dropping bugs in every district — and in just about every single instance, they were all heading home ... in a manner of speaking.

Some assignments were clearly more cut and dried than others. Ororo was floored on seeing how Five was laid out. The massive hydroelectric dams that were humming with energy were a bit intimidating, but inspiring all the same — and there were oh, so many places to hide bugs.

Six was a little bit more interesting in that both Sin and Bruce kept each other company in their vastly different targets. Sin knew where the gangs met up and the best places to catch illicit conversations, while Bruce knew his way backwards and forwards around the opposite end of town.

And while Eight was certainly more or less a trip down memory lane for Peter, it was the tech district dominated by Osborn that had Tony's attention.

Naturally, he couldn't find a way to get close to Osborn's building — but … again, that was a job for those amazing miniaturized devices that Pym had the foresight to send with all of them — just in case. And of course, knowing that they had those incredible cameras, the boys were sure to swing by the Green Goblin's house and set a few of them toward the doors so that they could _finally_ get eyes in Osborn's private study in his home.

"Really, Petey, I don't see what's so rough about ol' Gobby," Tony said as they watched through binoculars as the ant-sized cameras marched into Osborn's home.

"He's just … he's a lot nastier than he seems," Peter said. "And he _seems_ pretty nasty once you get to know him _at all._ "

"Right, well. Now that we're done here, it's time we took you up to the big leagues," Tony replied. "I can't believe you got as far along in tech as you did living … well. _Here._ "

"Hey. don't knock the hometown," Peter muttered with a little bit of a hurt look on his face before he brightened back up. "We do okay out here. Sure, most of the tech is devoted to how to just … make the stylists happy, apparently. But still."

"Still — if we can ever get out of the stupid program and back to an actual _life_ , you're going to want to come work with me. It'd be fun." Tony gave him a meaningful look as they headed out, though when they reached a high point overlooking the most populated part of the district, Peter couldn't help but stop and look down at the lit-up houses below, and the taller, mostly dark office buildings in the distance. He knew exactly where Aunt May's house was — even from this distance — and as he picked the lone golden lit window out of the dozens around it, he couldn't help but feel the strong pull of home calling to him.

Tony watched him in silence, knowing that out of all of the kids in the project, Peter was probably a little bit harder hit by everything that had happened than the rest of them. Watching how he so very clearly wanted nothing more than to run back to his family — or what was left of it — Tony couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

Peter held his hand over his heart as he watched the light for any signs of life for a few more moments before he frowned to himself and blew a kiss toward where he knew May was getting ready for bed — all alone with nothing but the old ornate picture frames holding the old photos of Uncle Ben, and his parents … and Peter himself to keep her company.

With a heavy sigh, Peter finally turned away and gave Tony a sad look. "Okay. I guess … we should probably go now."

Tony put his arm across Peter's shoulders, and the two of them headed back to the jet while Tony started to tell him about the ideas he had to improve on some of Peter's sketches for hidden weaponry. "I've got an idea about some adhesives that we need to discuss," Tony said. "We gotta get our favorite webhead slinging webs instead of just wearing them."

* * *

 _April 9th_

 _District Two_

* * *

Clint could hardly recognize himself.

The device he was wearing was apparently called an image inducer, and Fitz had assured him it was field-tested several times over, though he noted that since Clint was impersonating a known figure, he might want to brush up on his acting skills.

"Couldn't find me somebody with fewer… polo shirts or whatever the heck this is?" Clint grumbled at Bobbi, tugging at the color of the overly-stiff shirt with a look of pure distaste.

"That's an interesting complaint," she said with her nose wrinkled up a bit. "I'll try to adjust for it if we need to do this again."

"These things are constricting on the shoulders and arms, Bob," he said, going for a more 'legitimate' complaint before he added, "They are stupid."

"Yes, but they look nice on the chest and stomach areas," she countered before she gave him a little grin.

He had to chuckle at that and shake his head. "Well, as long as _you're_ enjoying it," he said with a crooked smile. He readjusted the collar of the shirt one more time. "So, this guy…"

"Don't ask questions," she said, cutting him off at the pass. "Not now."

Clint shrugged at her for a second. "I was just gonna ask if he's the strong silent type," he said with a little smirk. "So I don't have to act."

"Not always, but maybe for today," she said with a little sparkle in her eyes. "He's got an accent, so it might be better to keep it simple."

"Got it," he said with a little nod as he threaded his arm through hers. "Well, come on, darling, show me the sights," he prompted in a bit of a Capitolian accent just to mess with her.

"More like Moira — but not as thick." She looked him up and down in a sideways glance. "But nice first try."

"Not just a pretty face," Clint smirked her way.

"I knew that much already," she said as she bumped his hip "It's the acting that I didn't know about yet."

"I can even do cartwheels and bow to an adoring crowd," he said perfectly straight-faced.

"We'll leave the flexibility portion of the show until later," she replied just as evenly.

He chuckled and shook his head, allowing her to lead him through the nicer parts of the district that he simply hadn't even touched when he was growing up there. These were the areas closest to the Victor's Village, the areas where Academy trainers and others lived — the ones where the Capitol support was strongest, if he was honest.

But they weren't just trying to find the places that supported SHIELD, after all. If there was strong Capitol support, they needed to know that too, and Bobbi was quick to find places to put Hank's little movable bugs toward the 'official' training areas and the large homes where parties tended to gather.

"Okay, I think that's it for this part of town," Bobbi said. "I have one more spot to hit, but I need a little break, so you're up."

Clint looked at her sideways for a second. "Sure your reputation will hold up where I'm from?" he teased.

"I'm sure I'm not worried about it," she said with a wave. "They might think I'm trolling for hot guys for the rest of our evening."

He smirked her way for a second. "That's a real worry, Bob. I mean, you have crap taste. I should know."

"Shut up and be pretty under that stupid disguise."

He laughed outright at that as they made their way through _his_ part of the district. He wasn't very sentimental about the place, so he just focused on hitting the big points. Places where illegal fights took place, betting rings, that sort of thing.

"This really isn't so bad," Bobbi said as they were leaving one of the larger 'arenas'.

Clint snorted at her. "Yeah, one good thing of organized rings is, well, it's organized." He tipped his head at a symbol scratched in the wood of one of the buildings nearby. "Sentinels came by recently, so they're laying low."

"I didn't think criminals cared much about what the Sentinels did," she said with a laugh. "Everyone knows the most inept Sentinels stay in Two. They need the meaner ones out where they count."

Clint just chuckled. "Yeah, well, Sentinels in training get their practice down this way," he explained. "The real mean ones get their practice down in Madripoor, but…" He shrugged.

"Yeah, we have to hit one more spot; maybe you can help me, because I'm not familiar," she said, though she stopped short when she saw the guy blocking her path.

"Heya cutie. What're you doing all the way out here in my neighborhood?" the tall brunette asked with a leering grin.

"Leaving," she said with a tight smile.

"Already? Babe, you ain't even been around long enough to see the _good_ stuff," the guy said, still making it a point to block their path. He gestured Clint's way as Clint was suddenly _no help at all_ and wasn't moving in the slightest. "Ditch the kid, spend time with a real man."

"Oh, is that what you think you are?" Bobbi asked, wide-eyed. "Because you're very …" she looked him up and down very slowly. " _Very sadly_ mistaken."

He glared and took a step forward, clearly moving to grab her by the arm, but she sidestepped the move without even looking like she was trying. When he spun around to try again, she let him get a bit closer before she moved out of his way, and his own momentum sent him off balance enough that Clint only had to stick out his foot and the guy went down — which the two of them took as their cue to ditch him as Clint halfway dragged Bobbi by the arm away from that particular neighborhood.

"I was just getting started," she whispered his way. "I didn't lay a finger on him."

But Clint had settled into a good glare. "Leave it, Bob." He didn't tell her that he did _not_ want to get into it with Buck, focused instead on simply putting the whole neighborhood in his rearview mirror.

"Okay, okay. But we do have one more stop." She pulled him to a stop once he slowed his pace a bit. "A place called the _Princess Bar_ … it's not a name I'm familiar with."

He goggled at her for a moment. "I… don't even know what that is. _I_ don't know what that is, Bob."

"It's in low town?" she said with her nose scrunched up. "Does that help?"

"Awww, Bobbi, no." He turned to face her with wide eyes. "Why — _why_ would you want to go to low town? _Nobody_ goes to low town if they can help it."

"Well, I'm pretty sure Viper's not going to bug her own establishment for us."

Clint tipped his head back and just groaned. " _Fine_. But if no one hears from us ever again, I blame you."

"It's Viper's," she said with an easy roll of her eyes. "We'll be fine."

He sighed and took her arm. "Alright then. Fine. Into the insanity we go — with me all dressed up like mugging bait. You did this on purpose, Bobbi. I know you did."

"I didn't realize for some reason that Viper would be in a place that scares criminals," she said with a half-amused laugh. "She's so … snooty."

"Don't ask me to explain it, because I don't know. All I know is a couple SAFE boys went there on a dare, and only one of 'em came back — and he doesn't talk about it." Clint pulled a face. "Us criminal types are usually the ones who disappear and no one knows it, in case you haven't noticed."

"Well you're not a criminal type tonight," Bobbi pointed out. "And you're with me. We'll be fine. Especially if this is Viper's turf."

"My hero," Clint couldn't help but tease as they wandered further into the area of Two known as Madripoor — and deeper into the grittier parts, too.

Everything about the place made the darkest, nastiest parts of Two that Clint knew look downright homey. Open crime in the streets. Drugs. Prostitution — the whole nine, out on display with no shame, and no concern of any repercussions.

It was a small enough portion of town, but it was jam-packed with everything you didn't want to deal with, and before they hit the end of the first street, no less than four people had been caught trying to pick Clint's pockets. None of them put up a fight on being caught, instead opting to disappear into the dark alleys, but it was the principle of the matter that had Clint annoyed all the same.

And in the heart of Two's crime district, they finally found the bar Bobbi had mentioned — shining almost like a jewel amid the clutter and garbage. "And … there's the snooty," Bobbi said quietly as they looked at the massive, well-lit establishment.

"For someone who likes poisons so much, she's not real big on subtlety," Clint snorted.

"No, she's really not. But I'll bet if anyone bothered to test the blood in some of the corpses in the street, they'd find they didn't die on accident. She said she had plenty of test subjects."

"Yeah, see, this is why we don't come here."

"So SAFE is scared of Viper?" she teased.

"Probably a little bit," Clint said with a little smirk. "Not like we're trained to fight _victors,_ let alone crazy, poison-obsessed victors. Glad I'm not in that half-bit program anymore."

"Then they're not as stupid as that idiot leading them looks. Good to know."

"Buck's extra stupid," Clint said, the glare from earlier coming back to his face before he tried to shake it off. "You wanna introduce me to your best friend?" he teased in an attempt to turn it around on her.

"Ah, no. Let's just set the bugs and try to get out of there before she knows we were ever here."

"I'm totally fine with that," Clint had to agree, letting her lead the way as the two of them quickly and efficiently set Hank's moveable bugs down the path, letting them loose when they didn't want to get too close before, finally, they turned and left Madripoor — though it was clearly not soon enough for Clint, who was well aware of the fact that Bobbi was the main reason he wasn't getting assaulted or drugged or something.

"Well this was a _fun_ date," she said as they got closer to the jet. "How about we grab a burger and get the hell out of Two?"

"I am down for that," he said, nodding fervently. "No place like home."


	55. The Sanctity of Home

**Notes: Here we are, back with more fun and just a smidge of evil. Just a smidge.**

* * *

 **Chapter 55: "The Sanctity of Home"**

* * *

 _April 10_

 _District Ten_

* * *

Not all of the missions into the districts were being run by Tahiti operatives with home district ties. For example, the Tahiti kids didn't have anyone familiar in the least with how things worked in Ten, but luckily, they did have a mobile and somewhat friendly victor on their roster that had no trouble whatsoever slipping through town in broad daylight as he went about his business being personable with the townspeople in a manner in which they'd all been fairly accustomed to seeing from their very own Henry McCoy.

'Beast' was well liked, and not one person looked his way as he carefully placed the bugs through all of the common areas where the workers and people in Ten liked to gather.

He was reluctant to hit some of the shadier places of the district, but frankly, they needed to be done too, and he found himself making excuses as to _why_ he'd be in such dark and dismal places. Most of them, of course, tended to revolve around the possibility of himself or Charles offering assistance with what appeared to be a rampant problem with mental health in the district, seamlessly tying it to the mental instability of the past few years' tributes.

And while Henry was working his way through Ten, the Tahiti program's premier example of a schizophrenic disorder with auditory hallucinations that had gone suddenly silent was leading his charming young lady friend through the more questionable alleys and streets of District One, in broad daylight, once again, hiding in plain sight.

"This might be a bit of overkill," Cassie said as Wade made a point to hand her an ice cream cone from a street vendor.

"Why? We're supposed to blend in, right? So … why not play the part of a pair of lovebirds in the springtime?" he countered. "I mean... unless that's too far a stretch for you. I can be a giant creep or your big brother if you need it."

She giggled and stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't do the big brother thing — that's worse than being a creeper, because it creeps _me_ out."

"Well, I'll just leave that open for when you get tired of me," Wade said with a little shrug. "I'll take that as code to go away."

She laughed and took his arm, her ice cream in hand and a bright smile on her face. "I'm not gonna get tired of you," she laughed. "You… you keep life interesting."

"Well, I do try," Wade said as they made their way through the district. The usual spots were easy enough to handle, and some of the more questionable ones, they went through quickly. But even though he wasn't asked to do it, Wade made a point of dropping a few in front of Wilson Fisk's building with an innocent look on his face as Cassie looked at him questioningly. "Just … call it a hunch," he said brightly. "They'll thank me for it later. I'm sure."

"Is this one of those 'I know things' Wade moments?" she asked with one eyebrow raised high.

He tipped his head to the side a bit and started to make a long, drawn-out noise. "Yeah, kinda. Sorta. I know everyone thinks I'm nuts, but my record is good, isn't it?"

"And your heart's in the right place," she agreed with a little smile. "I don't mind a little crazy when you're just trying to keep everyone safe."

"That's because you actually _trust_ me," he said. "Which … is probably a little crazy."

She smiled widely and popped up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Well, I _am_ the one who likes to jump off of tall things."

He grinned her way, and the two of them headed off as he took the time to show her the 'sights' in One. "You know, as far as dates go, this could be worse," he said, tipping his head to the side.

"Could be worse?" She wrinkled her nose at him. "That's a ringing endorsement. I should be insulted."

"I just meant we could have worse things to look at than all the shiny, sparkly people of One and their shiny, sparkly buildings and what-not." He gave her a sideways smile. "Doesn't matter which district we're in — the view is beautiful."

She giggled a bit at that. "That's a very old line."

"Doesn't make it less true," he argued.

Cassie laughed at him and gave him another quick kiss before she had to ask, "What about Twelve? You'd say the same there?" She was wearing a teasing sort of smirk as she said it. "Away from all the sparkles, where all the soot is?"

"Who's looking at the sparkles?" he asked with his eyebrows raised. "I'm hoping you're looking at the sparkles so you won't notice me looking at you."

She turned to face him and look him over for a second. "Well that's a ridiculous plan. What if I _like_ looking at you too? I feel completely left out," she said with an impish grin.

He looked taken off-guard for a minute as he tried to find a good answer to that. "Well. I'm … sure I can find us a nice filthy overpass for a backdrop."

She rolled her eyes at him and leaned up to kiss him again. "Nah, I like the sparkles."

"Then … how about I buy you dinner? I swiped Coulson's wallet. Or … I swiped the cash out of it."

"Dinner on Dad, then," she agreed with a wide grin and a laugh. "And you are so teaching me how to do that, by the way."

"Yes, m'lady … I shall teach you the pickpocket ways of One." He offered her his arm and gently steered them in completely the opposite direction of where they'd been going as he started to tell her how to stealthily lift someone's wallet.

* * *

 _April 11th_

 _District Three_

* * *

"You got to play with this stuff all the time?" Peter asked at a hushed whisper, his eyes wide as he took in everything at Stark Industries. The two boys had infiltrated the building ostensibly to place bugs, but Peter felt more like a kid in a candy store than an operative on a mission. "This is like … this is the coolest tech ever!"

Tony was grinning at that. "Of course it is! Top of the line, kiddo. I figure while we're here I can just … borrow a few spare parts. No one will miss them." He started digging into the pile of scrap in the basement of Stark Tower, putting bits of one scrap or another into the bag at his hip that he'd brought. "I have an idea … but I need a few specific materials that I already know Fury won't go looking for."

"Is there a reason Fury won't go looking for them?" Peter asked as Tony looked triumphant for a moment as he held up a misshapen hunk of metal.

"No vision," Tony replied. "And like I said, I have ideas that need to be explored."

Peter grinned at him and looked through some of the stuff outside of the scrap heap, far more interested in the _working_ bits and pieces as he just didn't get to see this kind of tech. Ever.

"You know … I think we could use a few quicker processors than what we've been having to deal with back at base. What do you think? We could grab a few on the way out."

"Sure they won't notice it's missing?" Peter asked with one eyebrow raised.

"I doubt it," he replied. "The ones I'm thinking of are at least a year old now. I'd _hope_ that they kept developing things after I … well. After."

Peter glanced at Tony on hearing the slight hesitation and just had to nod. He might have been from Eight, but even he knew Tony's dad was the only Stark left — well, officially anyway — so he had to wonder just how much that would affect the guy. It couldn't be easy. "Without your big brain?" he asked in a joking tone. "Not a chance."

"That's probably only half true," Tony replied with a little laugh. "Still … I can't keep dragging through with what we have, and if we end up having to run that stupid game again, I want to cheat properly. With speed on our side too."

"Maybe next time, they'll have a better opponent — seeing as I'm pretty sure they know who they'd be dealing with _this_ time," Peter pointed out. "Not a secret weapon anymore."

"This is true," Tony replied. "But that was just one little trick. I have more that no one has gotten far enough to see yet."

Peter snorted. "I believe it," he muttered.

They slipped through the dark halls, sticking to the shadows as they got to the room that Tony said held the 'discontinued' tech. "Grab what you think we can scavenge from," Tony told him as he made a beeline to a small box that held what he was looking for. "Plenty of room still in the bag."

Peter broke out into a grin as he looked over the candy store. "Coming back here on my birthday," he teased.

"Which is when?" Tony asked as he looked up. "If it's too far out, I'll have something new and shiny that'll blow the doors off all of this by then."

"Beginning of August," Peter told him.

"Yeah, you won't need to come back," Tony said, shaking his head as he stuffed a few more things in the bag. "Okay. One last stop... and you get to carry _that_ bag. Chemicals."

"Oh, I see how it is," Peter said, with a tone of pure disbelief. "I'm just here for the heavy, dangerous lifting."

"Not … that kind of chemicals. Nothing that would react like that. I have … ideas for your new weapon, that's all. Nothing explosive."

"Okay, but if I end up sprouting four extra limbs, I am blaming you," Peter said.

Tony stared at him for a moment longer than Peter was comfortable with as it looked like he was weighing it out. "Deal. That's a risk I'm willing to take."

* * *

April 12

 _District Four_

* * *

It was dark along the oceanfront in District Four when Jessica got into the beach house on the rocks. It was rare for Odin to talk to anyone, let alone someone as young as her, and it was a job that Fury and Coulson had trusted only her to handle, seeing as she had such a talent for subtlety and getting just about anyone on her side.

Where most of the victors had a clear side they were on, Odin was hard to nail down. It was obvious that he had no love for the Capitol, and in years past, he'd been careful to avoid any alliances with anyone. But with two of his sons lost to Thanos' games … there was every possibility that they could get his backing if he was approached properly.

She made her way to where the first victor was seated, watching the waves rolling in. He seemed to be entirely lost in some thought or another, so she was a bit surprised when he gestured to a seat close by without looking at her. "Please, join me."

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," Jessica said as she took the seat, keeping in mind all that she'd researched on the district and the family itself.

"You requested my aid, not an invitation to draw out any form of pity or empty words," he said, his gaze still on the waves. "I may not be friend to most of the victors, but I cannot turn a blind eye." He paused and finally fixed his gaze on her. "But I will not be drawn into more needless conflict either. So what, Miss Drew, do you propose to ask of me?"

She took a deep breath. Still waters ran deep, as they say, and it was clear that Odin had kept his ears open more diligently than most. "I'm sure you're aware that we are staging a revolution," she said in a quiet, calm tone. "We're not asking for your backing. We just want to know where the people in the districts stand when this happens. I need to be in the gathering areas that they feel free to speak so I can see if they're leaning to the Capitol, or if they're open to join us."

Odin tipped his head to the side, watching her intently. "And if you find that my people are not open to SHIELD?" he asked.

"We won't fight for territory, if that's what you're wanting to know. We have finite resources, and our goal is to overthrow Thanos and his family. We just need to be sure that we wouldn't be wasting our resources trying to help evict the Capitol's hold here."

He seemed to relax the slightest bit on hearing that and nodded. "Good. This district does not take well to being punished for our beliefs," he said in almost a low rumble.

"When this happens, I'm sure the people here would gladly follow your lead, even if that's to turn away from SHIELD. We know that, and that's a much better path than the way it is now."

He frowned a bit at that, watching her intently for any signs of deceit, but finally, the very corner of his mouth quirked up. "I think you'll find that the Capitol's actions here have turned many against them," he said simply. "But if you insist on hearing for yourself, I would suggest looking to the beaches themselves. Many a hushed conversation in the waves has made Sentinels reconsider the amount of power they actually hold."

She smiled a bit at that and nodded. "Then I'll go there," she agreed. "And if you'd like to know when it all starts to happen ... I can tell you when we get closer. SHIELD will help Four get anyone in danger out if you find yourselves in need."

But Odin just chuckled. "Warning would be nice, but I think you'll find we are hardy, and when war comes to us, we will fight."

She nodded. "I've heard the tales," she said with a smile. "I do have one more question for you, though." She held her breath for a moment before she continued. "Was any of this a surprise to you?"

He shook his head very slowly. "To anyone who pays attention, the moves and countermoves are plain to see," he replied before he leaned in a bit. "You fancy yourselves beneath the surface, but there are still signs above the water. Take care you don't tip your hand too early and spoil the match."

She let the smile widen a bit as she nodded in agreement. "Yes, thank you. I'll pass that message on. I'm sure they're being reckless because we're getting closer, and it's taken so long to get where we are. They'll be more cautious."

He leaned back in his seat and nodded with a little smile of his own. "Tell the others with you to take care," he told her.

"I'll see you in the Capitol," Jessica said before she stood. "And thank you, really."

"As I said, you came seeking aid. I could not deny a fellow victor in need," he said softly before he paused. "And Jessica — do not place your devices on the Yggdrasil branches. That would be insulting to my people."

"Of course," she said, looking serious again. "I won't allow that to happen."

"Thank you," he said simply before he seemed to turn his attention from her. "I will see you in the Capitol."

* * *

 _April 13_

 _Noh-Varr and Jubilee's Apartment_

* * *

The more time crept toward the Games, the more tired Noh felt. He hated having to keep up the pretense that he and Jubilee were anything less than madly in love.

But it was also his birthday, so after a quick meeting with the rest of the stylists — required ahead of the Games for the newer ones in the ranks to get to know everyone so that no terrible faux pas would take place — he headed back with Jubilee to their apartment, looking forward to a night of movies and snuggles — which was really all he wanted.

That and a little dancing, but between the two of them, there was always dancing.

His favorite record was already playing when he walked in the door, and he grinned widely when he saw that Jubilee had beaten him home, somehow, and had even already changed out of the bright yellow little dress she had worn to the stylists' meeting into one of his old shirts, which hung about halfway down her thighs.

She was dancing around, slipping and sliding across the floor in her socks as she sang along to the music, and he caught her as she would have slid past him, pulling her into a spin as he sang the rest of the words into her hair, pulling her tightly into the dance until they were no longer dancing but locked in a kiss that only sort of spun.

When the kiss broke, they were both grinning, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Happy birthday," she told him before she stood up on her toes to steal another kiss that he was only too happy to give her.

He heard a little beeping sound from the kitchen, and he laughed as the kiss broke. "You're making waffles," he said, still chuckling.

"Well, it _is_ your birthday," she pointed out as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, and he laughed again and spun her before they headed into the kitchen for the birthday breakfast-for-dinner feast.

There were strawberries, of course, and powdered sugar for Jubilee, orange juice, coffee, the whole nine yards. He had to laugh when he saw it all and rested his chin on her shoulder. "My Jubilee… you must love me," he teased.

"You better believe it, mister," she said, grinning as she stood on her toes to kiss him again.

The two of them were content with their breakfast dinner and snuggles for a while before Jubilee hopped up to go to the counter. "I think Doreen sent a card — and everyone else too…" she said as she started sorting through their mail.

There were a few with no addresses that both of them knew by now to just throw away, but the rest of them they started to go through together, smiling at Honey's in particular because it was signed "from your stage girlfriend" with a whole lot of hearts -— and doused in perfume.

There were a few others from various business partnerships — fabric suppliers, things like that. The typical "it's your birthday" things that vendors sent to remind you that they had your birthday on file and wanted to keep up a good relationship.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, honestly. The only card of note was one that poured glitter all over his hands when he opened it, which was honestly in line with their line of clothing but would be a pain to wash off later since it wasn't the semi-fluid kind that he and Jubilee used to keep it from sticking to their hands while they worked.

"And this is why we don't use your products," he muttered to the envelope as he shook out his hands a bit at the birthday message. "Shoddy."

He didn't want to get the glitter all over the rest of the cards, especially some of the nicer ones from Honey and their other friends, so he went to the sink to wash off the second-rate glitter, though almost as soon as he turned the water on, it was clear to Jubilee that something was up. He very quickly drew back his hands, wincing as the glitter on them was starting to burn through the skin of his palms as soon as it was wet. He took another two steps toward a towel to try to wipe it off before an instant later, he had simply folded where he was, sinking to the floor and having a hard time getting a breath.

Jubilee rushed to his side in a panic trying to figure out what had gone wrong, but at least she was smart enough to guess. "Keep breathing," she told him, resting one hand on his chest. "I'm calling for help _right now._ " She bit her bottom lip as she watched him, trying to keep him engaged as she made the phone call, and as soon as she knew help was on the way, she started calling their friends, asking advice on what to do, since … clearly someone was trying to kill them. She kept busy all the way up until the paramedics arrived, and then, she had to step back, since they officially weren't supposed to be anything like a couple yet.

So it was almost a relief when the Sentinels showed up shortly after the paramedics looking for information on what had happened, and to secure the scene, though she was only partway through explaining it when a pack of sunglasses-wearing SHIELD agents swept into the apartment as well.

She was distracted as she talked to one of them, watching another taking samples from all around the apartment. "Is this … I mean. Is this necessary?" Jubilee asked. "All the … poking around everywhere? It's pretty obvious it was the trashy glitter."

The SHIELD agent nodded once. "The trashy glitter is most likely the cause of his symptoms, but you have to understand - an attempt on any high-profile Games stylist like this has SHIELD's attention, and we're not going to assume that it was just an isolated incident or that there aren't other 'surprises' in your mail."

"Well crap," she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. "But ... you won't know until you run that through your creepy SHIELD evil-o-meter, right?"

"Pretty much," the SHIELD agent said with a shrug. "It's slower, but safer than finding out the hard way."

"So … am I supposed to like, get a hotel or something? Because … well. You can _see_ the names on the mail. It would be stupid to lie." Jubilee turned his way quickly. "Do I get a guard? I get guard detail, right?"

The SHIELD agent raised an eyebrow and almost smirked. "We'll try to make sure you never have to _see_ the guard detail, if that makes it any better."

"Right, right, I know. But … should I just like … go to a friend's house? And if I do, I'm not sure I want the guard detail on our hair-braiding party."

"I don't think anyone would blink an eye if you came to the hospital with us, and then wherever you'd like to stay next, we can accommodate you," the SHIELD agent said. "I understand you and Miss Lemon are close, for example."

"Can I stay in another country with Noh? Because that is what I _choose_ ," Jubilee shot back without missing a beat.

The SHIELD agent smirked. "Call Miss Lemon, Miss Lee."

"But you just said my choosing, and I am just saying … you're failing in your duty if it's my choosing then you choose Honey's for me? But … whatever. Can I go see him in the hospital, or are you going to send your minions to arrest me?"

"We're not going to arrest you for visiting a friend at the hospital, Miss Lee."

She stuck her chin out and poked him in the chest with one finger. "You say that now. But if I go in there and you arrest me anyhow, I'm going to call it entrapment."

"If I have to arrest you, it's going to be because you've done something like assault a SHIELD officer," the guy said with a smirk as he pushed Jubilee's hand away.

"Oh, believe me, mister, if I assault you, you'll know it." She glared his way and turned on her heel. "Who do I talk to about being able to come back here?"

"We'll send someone to you to let you know when we've cleared the apartment, but honestly, Miss Lee, if we find more than just this one letter, we may relocate you."

She let out a sigh and dug in her purse. "Do me a favor, please, and instead of being all creepy and crawly and appearing wherever I am, just call me?" She handed him her business card with her cell number on it. "Please."

The SHIELD agent nodded. "If that's what you _choose_ ," he said with the slightest hint of a tease.

"Oh, ha-ha," she said with a ghost of a smile. "And can I know your name, or is it really officially just 'Agent'?"

"Jasper Sitwell," he said. "But please, don't call me Jasper."

"Thank you, _Agent,_ " Jubilee replied before she looked over her shoulder again and headed out, with Honey already dialed up.


	56. Poison

**Chapter 56: "Poison"**

* * *

 _April 15_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

The mood in the entirety of the Tahiti Program was high. Even if going back home had made a few people a little homesick, they were still over the moon about having seen their home districts and being allowed to spend time there. It had them excited, too, about the revolution, since Coulson had promised them that this meant they were getting ready to make a move — so just in general, the whole atmosphere was more relaxed and happy than usual.

"You all did great," Coulson said to the group at large. "Every bug you put in is operating perfectly, and the intel we're getting back already is highly encouraging. I thought you'd like to know. Thank you."

The kids were all grinning right back at him, though it was Ororo who fixed him with her best smile and said, "No, thank _you_ ," as several of the kids nodded in agreement.

"We all needed that," Steve agreed. "Fresh air and a chance to be home."

"Even if it wasn't _home_ ," Peter said. "It was still… yeah. Thanks, Van Helsing."

"Is everyone done with missions, then?" Kurt asked with the slightest of frowns, glancing toward Jan, who hadn't left on a mission to go 'home' — even though she and Hank were from Seven.

"For now, yes," Coulson said with a nod.

"Then… who covered Seven?" Kurt asked.

Coulson tipped his chin down a bit. "Truth be told, we're not too worried about Seven right now, but they'll get their bugs too. Hopefully a little later this week."

"Do you need volunteers?" Kate asked.

"No, but I appreciate the selfless offer," Coulson said, not quite able to hide the smirk. "The district is pretty well behind us right now, so we can afford to go at that one a little slower."

Kate let out a disappointed noise, but Kurt tipped his head at Coulson for a moment. "Well, let us know," he said with the beginnings of a smirk.

"I tell you what, you're at the top of my list if for some reason it's not done by the end of the month. I have a couple feeds that got knocked loose during a snowstorm anyhow."

Kurt broke out into a wide grin, and Kate pumped her fist in the air. "Way to go," she said, and she seemed to direct it to both of them at once.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I _do_ have another team to get back to," Coulson said, already heading toward the door.

"He's cheating on us," Clint whispered to Kate, who giggled.

"Oh, funny you should say that, Mr. Barton; your presence is requested topside," Coulson said. "If you would, please, follow me. I know it's late, but it's kind of important."

Clint raised an eyebrow but shrugged his assent all the same. "Whatever you need," he said.

Coulson led Clint down to his office, and once he got there, he simply handed him a new set of fatigues and a black hood. "By the time you put this on, not one inch will be exposed, and it's not going to betray your usual mission wear. Do _not_ try to run or pull anything funny. Fury's personal guard has no sense of humor."

Clint glanced down at the hood for a second and then looked to Coulson. "So ... what's the occasion? Bit fancier digs than usual."

"Charles is doing a session out of Fury's office. He says that they're ready for you to help ... if you want to. But at this point, Miss Romanoff doesn't want to talk to anyone without knowing that you're safe and in good health."

Clint stared at Coulson for a moment, something like a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That's a big change."

"I'm told they've improved by leaps and bounds," he said with a nod. "And that she's dancing again. So. If her progress continues, we'll have to install a barre."

"You got her dancing?" Clint broke out into a full-on grin. "You're pulling my leg."

Coulson smirked a bit harder. "Xavier gave her a pair of pointe shoes last time he visited. She's been dancing ever since."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Clint asked as he started to pull on the fatigues.

As soon as Clint was ready, the two of them headed up, past the security measures that had been in place long before that year's tributes showed up. It was impressive to see from Clint's side of things — because it was _so_ much heavier than he thought all the way up the line and all the way to Fury's office, where the large screen showed Natasha, trying not to smirk at something that Charles had just told her.

Charles waited for the door to close and latch before he nodded his head Clint's way. "Your friend just showed up to see you," Charles said to Natasha.

Clint grinned at the screen and waved as he gestured with a tip of his head at the seat by Charles. "You mind?" Though he didn't exactly wait for permission as he dropped into the chair, honestly unable to stop the grin on seeing Natasha — especially when she looked so _normal._

She wasn't glaring or looking wary or anything like that. She simply looked a bit wide-eyed at the screen for a moment before she composed herself again. "How are you, Clint?" she asked carefully.

"Just great," he promised her without hesitation. "Run of good missions recently, plus it's just been that kind of week, apparently." He grinned a little wider. "How 'bout you?"

"Oh lovely," she said with a small smirk. "The view is scenic, and the flowers are in full bloom."

Clint had to shake his head and chuckle at that. "No, really."

"Really," she said, though she dropped the smirk a bit. "I'm fine. Better than I have been in a while, at least." She paused and seemed to think something over. "You were right about what happened in One."

"Nat," he said quietly, leaning forward a bit, but she shook her head.

"It's not going to happen again, Clint," she promised, and this time there was a bit of fire in her gaze. "Anyone else tries to make me hurt you — and _they'll_ be the ones in the hospital."

Clint looked honestly surprised by the pronouncement. "That's ... real sweet, Nat."

She rolled her eyes at him openly. "Don't get sappy, Clint. I just mean no one's going to _make_ me do anything. I _will_ still wipe the floor with you when I see you again. I doubt all that training has fixed that little feint of yours."

Clint relaxed a bit at that — that sounded more like the Natasha he knew. "They figure out who screwed you over yet? Because I could do with a little stretch myself," he said. "You know. Practice that feint."

"I already told Fury what I know," she said with a shrug. "That's about all I can do right now."

"Yeah, well, hurry up and get out of there, and we'll follow up," Clint said, and she nearly smiled at that.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask, Natasha?" Charles asked.

She paused and looked to Charles for a moment before she fixed her gaze back on Clint. "Just tell me you stopped leading with your right," she said at last, watching Clint more intently than before.

"You know I try not to do that. Too weak on that side," Clint said, holding her gaze. "Haven't made that mistake in months."

The two former district partners seemed to measure each other up for a moment before Natasha nodded once, and they both fell silent, some kind of understanding obviously passing between them, though Charles obviously wasn't going to say anything about it when clearly the two of them were helping each other and looking out for one another.

"Until next time then, Miss Romanoff?" Charles asked.

She nodded quietly. "How much longer, do you think?" she asked suddenly. "When do I get to start… trusting my own mind?"

"We'll have a solid plan in place, _with_ a timeline, when I see you in person next time," Charles promised.

"Good." She smirked the slightest bit. "I'm getting tired of the view."

"And I'm getting tired of seeing you there," Charles admitted. "I'd much rather have you around for tea." He gave her a little smile and then deferred to Clint with a nod.

"See ya soon, Nat," Clint said, smirking a bit. "Try not to shoot me this time?"

"That depends on how long you're going to hold that over my head."

"Forever," Clint said with a crooked smirk, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Good _night_ , Clint."

The camera flipped off, and the screens went black, but before anyone could say a word, Charles turned to Clint. "If you'd like to cover up, I'd be happy to escort you back down. I have business there — notes to make."

"You don't have to make excuses — I know I need a babysitter," Clint said with a grin as he reached for the dark hood. "Super secret spy stuff — I get it."

Charles shook his head and led the young man out, leaving Coulson and Fury to discuss things further — with Coulson taking up Charles' banner in his absence, fighting to bring Natasha back under strict supervision against Fury's argument that she simply couldn't be trusted and was right where she should be. It went on for a good long time until finally, Fury put an end to it.

"You're not the only appointment I have tonight," Fury told him. "I am finally getting my last team member back, and I'm going to need to tap into your team to make sure he's not carrying a tracer or a bug. Among other things."

Coulson frowned a bit at the subject change — not quite ready to drop it — but nodded all the same. "I'll send Fitzsimmons up."

"Tell her to be ready for scans," Fury said. "When he gets here, it'll be a little while before she can start. I have questions before you get them going."

Coulson nodded. "I'll make sure they prep all they need," he said, moving to Fury's desk to call down to the lab and let them know what they needed to prep for standby.

It wasn't longer than fifteen minutes or so before Logan came in, looking like he wasn't in the mood for what he guessed was coming. He closed the door behind himself and held his breath as he headed over to take a seat, waiting for Fury to get going. "If that wasn't a flat ass creepy setup, it might have been halfway relaxing," Logan said.

"What did she want?" Fury asked him outright, looking a tad annoyed at having to wait for so long to get his newest team member back.

"I really couldn't tell you," Logan replied. "If I had to guess, it'd be … just weirdo being a pain in the ass. She just … kept trying to _talk._ "

"Sounds horrifying," Coulson deadpanned.

"Regular nightmare," Logan agreed with a dry look his way. "It was unsettling. That's all I can tell you."

"That _can't_ be everything you did for two weeks," Fury pointed out with a frown.

"If it was any more than that, I'd give you every minute detail just so you could have a few nightmares with me," Logan replied as he rubbed his temple. "That was it. I don't … she didn't even try to get anything from me. She didn't ask questions about anything but me — and you know how well that goes over."

Coulson had to smirk despite the fact that Fury didn't look like he believed a word of it. "Sounds like a lively conversation all around."

"Like I said — coulda been a nice break if it wasn't for the whole … paranoid thing that's been so nicely cultivated," Logan said before he looked between both of them. "So thank you. _For that_. Very helpful."

"You're not getting out of here until we give you a thorough once-over," Fury said. "And then one more."

"Do I look surprised?" Logan asked. "Can I at least have a drink if you're going to work me over?"

"We're going down to my team's lab," Coulson put in, shooting Fury a look as if to dare him to contradict him now that he'd said it. "Fitzsimmons always has something on hand — and May has the good stuff if you ask nice."

"I always ask nice," Logan said with a ghost of a smirk before he turned to Fury. "Is that good enough, Nick, or are you coming along to make sure … whatever?"

"I'm not babysitting you," Fury said with a dry look.

"You kind of are," Logan pointed out. "But if you try to tuck me in, I'm gonna have to hurt you."

The dry look intensified before Fury turned to Coulson. "Those little lab rats of your find anything, I want it on my desk."

"For your scrapbook, sir?" Coulson asked with a little smirk.

Logan smirked his way and shook his head as Fury shot a glare toward Coulson. "Just get it done."

When Coulson closed the door behind himself, Logan didn't even wait to get away from it before he had to start grumbling. "I'm surprised he didn't have you handcuff me."

Coulson smirked a bit. "If you think you need them…"

"I'm too tired to fight with you," Logan replied with a sigh. "You're probably safe."

"Probably," Coulson agreed as they headed down the hall to where his team was. Fitzsimmons was already prepping for them, but they weren't quite finished, so Coulson went to an office close by and emerged with a bottle.

"May's," he said in explanation. "Simmons won't let you have it until after her tests, but if we grab it now, May can't say no to a thirsty kid." He gave Logan a sideway sort of smirk.

"Bless you," Logan replied with a genuine smile. "At the risk of sounding like an alcoholic, I haven't had a drink since that stupid party. And all things considered, I sure as hell could have used one over the past week or so."

"We'll tell Jemma to hurry things along, then," Coulson suggested as they made their way into the labs, where Fitzsimmons was finally ready.

"Oh, hello!" Simmons said brightly when she saw who her 'patient' was. "Long time no see!"

"We gotta quit meeting like this," Logan muttered as he took off the flannel overshirt and headed over to where she was waiting.

"Agreed," she said with a little nod as she got him set up, taking a few blood samples to start before she started to prep for some more intensive scans — though he was surprised when, while Simmons was placing her samples, Fitz came up and started making measurements along his arms and hands.

"You need that for a reason or just …"

"Pet project," Fitz said with a shrug, though he couldn't quite keep the professional face on and broke into a grin. "It's top of the line — should be amazing. I have to get the alignment right before…." He trailed off when he saw Coulson giving him a raised eyebrow look. "Of course, this is assuming I can get it to work and not kill you," he said quickly.

"Well you know … do what you can," Logan replied easily. "I'm not going to be too picky."

"He's not going to get you killed," Simmons assured him as she came sliding back over and directed him to walk with her to some more substantial scanning machines. "He knows what he's doing — he's just over-dramatic."

"I'm really not worried," Logan promised with a little smirk her way. "But go ahead and be dramatic. There's not _nearly_ enough of that going on around here."

Simmons raised an eyebrow at him for a moment and shook her head. "I think you'll really like it, though," she told him in a low whisper. "Fitz is excited, and I helped him with some of the bio specs. It's quite brilliant, actually."

"I'm sure it'll be something worthwhile then," he said with a nod and a small smile.

She grinned at him and had him lie back so she could run the scans, and about the same time he was done running through what felt like every machine in her arsenal, Fitz came back with one last quick measurement around the wrist without a word, and the two of them split for their various tests and machines, leaving Logan to pull his flannel back on and wait for the word from Jemma.

It took another few minutes before Simmons came back with her preliminary results with a bit of a frown. "Can I have your arm again?" she asked Logan.

He didn't even look up as he rolled up his sleeve and offered it to her. "Whatever you want, darlin'."

She frowned a bit again after a nervous smile and took another few vials of blood, offering him a bottle of water when she was done with a strict glance Coulson's way. "Nothing else until I check this — I don't want the alcohol undermining my results," she said, tipping her head at the bottle, which just had Coulson smirking.

"Yes ma'am," Logan said, which had Simmons looking a little off-guard before she had to smile the slightest bit as she ran her tests one more time. "Find something?"

"Trace amounts," Simmons said with a little frown. "It's a popular drug in the Capitol, but it doesn't… it doesn't _do_ anything beyond just a light high. It's not hallucinogenic, and it doesn't look like there was enough of it to get you out of your right mind. It's a tad lower than recreational levels."

"I didn't take anything," Logan muttered with a frown.

"Oh, I didn't say you did," Simmons assured him quickly. She paused. "But… maybe someone else you were with…. It's really only taken orally. I doubt you were injected with it — that particular cut would stay in your blood longer, and it's dangerous and easy to overdose on."

"Great, they're drugging me," he said half under his breath.

Simmons gave him a sympathetic sort of smile. "Did you feel odd at all while you were gone? Any distorted perceptions of time, perhaps? An hour passing in a minute — that sort of thing?"

He frowned as he thought it over, and after a few moments, he nodded lightly. "Yeah, just figured I was being paranoid."

Coulson frowned at that and looked to Simmons. "How bad could it be?" he asked.

She shook her head quickly. "Oh, it's not enough of a high to … most people are fully cognizant of what's going on. I knew some people who took it to get through boring lectures at the Academy," she admitted with a little sheepish look.

"Is that personal experience then, Jemma?" Coulson asked with a little frown.

"No! Not at all," she said, shaking her head vehemently. "No, _I_ followed the rules, thank you very — no, no. I just knew…"

"Fitz then," Coulson teased.

"Fitz can hardly handle coffee," Simmons pointed out with an affectionate sort of smirk.

"And besides," Fitz broke in. "Neither of us needed to get through classes like that when we could just finish up homework in the boring lectures."

"And come up with pranks for the senior class," Simmons agreed with a grin his way.

"Her fingernails were blue for a week," Fitz chuckled.

"So what's the worst case scenario here?" Logan asked, looking very worn-out at the whole idea, and Simmons pushed his sleeves up to double check for old needle pricks.

She thought about it as she looked him over before she finally shook her head and stepped back, hands on her hips. "You'll be missing time — periods where you don't remember what happened, but as for what _you_ were up to, well. It's a dreamlike state, I've been told. It doesn't make you talkative. If anything, you'd be non-responsive." She thought it over before she added, "But I didn't see any sign that anything was _done_ to you during that time. You were just… left to sit in a haze for a time, as far as I can tell."

"Well this should be fun then," Logan said with a sigh, even his light teasing tone gone. "Why do I get the feeling that I've got a long night ahead of me?"

Simmons looked a bit apologetic. "Well, I'm running a second test just to be sure, but I'm sure you'd have better peace of mind if we could figure out what happened during that time."

He shrugged a bit and leaned back, trying to simply get comfortable. "Doesn't really matter as long as I wasn't talking."

"And I don't think you were," Simmons assured him. "There are no other signs of anything else being administered. Maybe someone around you takes it recreationally?"

"I doubt that somehow," Logan replied dryly.

Coulson let out a sigh of his own before he headed for his comm at the desk to call Charles. Better to be safe and make sure nothing actually _had_ happened rather than just hope for the best. Maybe some of the hypnotic work he had done to help Natasha would be helpful here.

Either way, Logan was right — this would be a long night of unraveling.

* * *

 _April 16_

 _In the Capitol_

* * *

Logan was still tired after all the tests and screwing around that Simmons and Charles had put him through, most of it with Coulson sticking his nose in from time to time with a severe frown on his face as he watched what was happening and Simmons monitored the progress as the drug worked its way out of his system entirely.

Logan was looking forward to heading back to Seven, but naturally, there was always something stupid going on — and for once, he wasn't the only one that had stupid to deal with. And if it wasn't for the fact that he wasn't officially supposed to do it — and the fact that Simmons had specifically asked him to deliver an antidote — he probably would have kept away from the hospital and acted like he hadn't heard from Fitzsimmons that Noh was laid up.

He wasn't expecting the crowd … and he glared at the idiots with microphones pushing in on him for information on Noh's condition and details on the lover's triangle as he sidestepped them and headed up to find out for himself what the hell had happened to the guy. All Simmons had said was that he was attacked.

When he got up to Noh's room, there was another little pocket of reporters … though these were a lot sneakier than the ones downstairs, trying to dress up as nurses or candy stripers even though they were trying to get a picture of Noh all laid out and hurting.

The other people on the floor, though, were fellow stylists, and Logan had to smirk when he saw that, clearly, the group of them were self-policing the situation, as GoGo had one of the reporters by the ear who had tried to sneak in and was giving him the dressing down of his life.

"You guys missed a few," Logan said as he walked up to the door.

"Yeah, well, there are only so many of me," GoGo grumbled as she shoved the reporter out the door with a warning not to try anything like that again "or so help me I'll find a place to put that camera."

"You gonna throw me out too?" he teased. "Or … try to?"

"You gonna take pictures or ask Jubes stupid questions?" GoGo asked with one eyebrow cocked up.

"Not much of a shutterbug, and I'm not allowed to ask Jubes anything," Logan pointed out. "Nothing like asking who did this so I can rip their guts out."

"Well, seeing as you don't have a camera, you're fine," she replied before she leaned against the wall and waved a hand, looking frustrated. "We don't know who did it. Some guy mailed — I kid you not — _poison glitter_ to their apartment. I'm not even joking."

"That sounds like the most … appropriate poisoning attempt ever," Logan said as he stepped in the room and made his way over to Noh and took a seat on the foot of his bed. "Heard you got the heavy needle treatment. Get all the glitter outta your system?"

"Please," Noh said with a distinctly insulted expression. "Like I would use anything that tacky."

Logan smirked his way and shook his head. "So. Who was the target? What was the motive? Jealous of the line?"

"More or less," he said tiredly. "We've been getting letters since the rumors that Jubilee was cheating on you. Both of us — though this particular one was addressed to me."

"Oh, so that's not allowed when I'm runnin' around all over the damn place on her?" Logan challenged with a laugh. "Idiots."

"I never said they were intelligent," Noh said with a small smirk. "I mean, look at the tacky glitter they chose."

"Yeah, I'm not qualified to judge on the glitter quality," Logan replied before he handed Noh a bag. "But I had a feeling you needed something edible, and that I can handle. Especially since the only ones trying to poison me right now are paying to do it. Just … make sure you finish off everything in the bag, alright? You got a line to get back to."

"Don't I know it," Noh said with a small sigh, peering into the bag from his favorite restaurant before he looked up at Logan with an eyebrow raised in a silent question when he saw what Simmons had packed along with the burgers.

Logan nodded once slowly, but didn't say a word.

"Well, hopefully the next time we see each other will be different," Noh said at last, clearing his throat. "And you can tell me about the people poisoning _you_ ," he added with a small frown.

"Don't worry about it. With a little luck, it'll be a while before we run into each other," Logan added as he stood up again and shook his head. "No offense, but I'd rather it was someone else getting the full health work up."

"None taken. I'd prefer it if neither of us had another such issue and we made it to the Games unscathed," he agreed.

"If only. I'd offer to shake your hand, but …"

"Next time," Noh said.

On the way out, Logan was sure to lean in and tell Honey in a whisper to be sure he finished the meds Simmons had snuck up. "It'll clear it out fast. The doc that sent it up knows her stuff."

Honey just beamed at Logan and threw her arms around him in a good, solid hug. "You're a great friend."

"I'm a glorified delivery boy," Logan laughed, though he returned her hug. "See you soon, I'm sure." With that, he headed out, without another look back, and to the frustration of the press, he still refused to answer any questions on his way out, and barely paused to make sure that whatever photo they got of him wouldn't look like he was anything but supportive of Noh.


	57. No One Can Breathe Easy

**Chapter 57: "No One Can Breathe Easy"**

* * *

 _April 19_

 _District Seven_

* * *

As soon as Logan hit the ground in Seven, he went to work placing the bugs that Coulson asked him to. He made a quick sweep through the bars the men frequented and then grabbed a bite at the restaurant that the women liked to gather up and chat in before he dropped one in Puck's front pocket that he was told would crawl off once the thing's internal GPS noted that he was at the bunkhouse in the woods.

As soon as that was done, Logan made a quick beeline to his log house in the Victor's Village to try and catch a break — a few hours to himself, he hoped. He got his boots off and made it as far as the couch to drop down and relax, if he could, fully intending to sleep for whatever time he had in the district.

He was only out for half an hour, though, before Heather Hudson let herself in the door and approached with both hands on her hips. She looked over the sleeping victor for a moment before she grabbed hold of his arm to shake him awake. "What, you don't say hello to me anymore?" she demanded of him.

"Hello," he replied, before he'd even opened his eyes. He started to drag himself upright, knowing already she was not going to let him rest if she'd come all the way out just to give him a hard time.

"What have you been _doing_ this whole time that you've been gone?" she demanded. "I saw you in the papers — the _palace_ , Logan? What were you _doing_?"

"What I was told to do," he replied, rubbing one eye as he sat back. "Didn't have a choice in it."

"Why did they want… the _palace_? Really? What did Nebula even…. Please tell me she isn't…"

"I don't know," Logan tried to tell her wearily. "And I'm … mostly sure it was a one time thing."

She shook her head and stared at him for a short while. "And what about Skye? You leave with her, and the next thing I know, I'm reading about you and your stylist breaking up — I didn't even know you were _dating_ her… what exactly is going on in the Capitol with you?"

He looked up at her as he let his hand fall to his side, then let out all his breath. "A whole lot less than what they're saying, that's for damn sure," he said. "I told you — Jubes and I… we _weren't_ dating. Or anything like it. That was the story they wanted to tell. It didn't take long for them to let it die because _no one_ believed it. She's a friend." He paused and tipped his head to the side. "Who … is overly concerned about my facial hair."

Heather shook her head at him and sat down on the other end of the couch. "Don't think I didn't notice they ran that just before you went to the palace, Logan. Something is going on."

"They wanted to make sure that the path was clear if Nebula _did_ take a shining. Far as I know, she did _not_. I think I unsettled her a little."

"You unsettled — _Logan_!" Heather looked at him sharply. "You're already in enough trouble every time I turn around, and now you go messing with the royals?

"She was trying to freak _me_ out — her and her creepy brother. I refused to react, so they got bored."

Heather ran a hand through her hair and stared at him wide-eyed. "You're going to send me to an early grave," she accused him.

"Then I won't tell you anything else about _that_ ," he decided. "Don't want to be accused of killing you."

She shook her head at him, then propped her head up with her arm on the back of the couch, glaring at him for a long moment before she lost the heat in her gaze and sighed. "You'll be around on Friday, won't you?"

"I'll be sleeping, but I should be," he replied. "I'll just lock the door to my room — do whatever you want."

She gave him a look. "They'll be disappointed if you do that. It's been a long, _long_ time Logan — the kids ask about you every week."

He let out a long sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Fine. If you think it'll help. I'm not sure how long I'll be here after that, though."

"Well, as long as you put in an appearance," she said with a deep frown, clearly not satisfied with that answer. "Just how much of this are they pushing for? This… this… I _know_ you're not dating that many women, Logan. Something's going on out there."

"I'm not dating _anyone_ ," he replied, resting his head on the back of the couch. "So ... sorry to disappoint you and your big dreams."

She shook her head at him as she got back up to go look for a light blanket. "It's not about my big dreams." She stood on her toes to reach the blankets tucked higher up. "We'll have a little bigger group than usual on Friday. A couple new kids — so try to play nice," she teased him over her shoulder.

"Don't I always?" he asked with a little smirk. "What else is new around here?"

"Mac's been getting a little hassle at work, but that's usual. Someone took exception to him being friendly with the kids," Heather said with a sigh.

"I'm supposed to meet up with Puck and Mikey later. Want him to disappear in the woods on his next patrol?" Logan had to tease.

"Oh, don't tempt me," she laughed.

"New idiot like that could fall off a mountain by accident," he said with a shrug. "It happens."

"He won't last long here anyway. Said something about the mayor and — well. There's a reason he's picking on Mac now." Heather looked a bit proud. "You missed the shiner he was sporting for a good two weeks."

"I miss all the fun," Logan countered with a little laugh. "More proof that nothing changes."

"No, but it would be nice if we saw you more often," Heather said. "Elsie is just about ready to burst because she hasn't seen you in so long."

"She'll be fine," he said with a little shrug.

"She's seven, and she misses her friend," Heather pointed out.

"Guess I better find her another cat."

Heather tossed him the light blanket and shook her head. "Get some shut-eye, Logan. I'll be back on Friday, and so help me, if you're not here, I will find whoever's fault it is and boot them into next week."

"If I'm not here, then they dragged me back to the Capitol," he pointed out. "I'm too tired to do anything fun."

"I can go there too. You know Mac's been offered a transfer since he's been here so long," she pointed out. "I can find them and make them miserable."

"Yeah? Who's gonna take care of your army?" he challenged.

"We'll let Smitty handle it until Scott's old enough," she shot back.

"So … you're going to hand him a tiny cutter crew? Doesn't sound like a great idea."

"He'd love it and you know it," Heather said with a tiny smirk. "You've seen how he is around Rose."

"Yeah, those two would be good for the flock of kids you got followin' you around. You should get them more involved when I'm gone."

"They're only my backup plan," Heather said with a little shrug. "And their house doesn't fit my army."

"Fair," he said. "Now get out, or I might find something else to do Friday. Heard there was a cage fight coming up."

She leveled her finger at him with narrowed eyes. "You are not funny."

"Not tryin' to be," he said before he slipped back down and tried to fall back asleep.

* * *

 _April 26_

 _Undisclosed SHIELD Location_

* * *

The fact that Essex had been barred from most of the Tahiti section was frustrating, but not world-ending, as he had been assured his help was still needed in the Tahiti process itself in a few months, and he also had an interesting project — likely meant to occupy his time and "keep him out of trouble," but still a fascinating dilemma.

The devices he had created years ago as a means of control were inelegant — he knew this, but before he could improve them, the Tahiti program had captured his attention, and he had never put much thought into improving the devices after that. And yet somehow Fury had found out about them — likely because of Xavier's meddling with Romanoff — and just like that, Essex found himself with a new office and with leeway to work without having to worry about teenagers and their tiresome problems. Supposedly it was a move to protect the children, but Essex knew better.

If not for the fact that he would have preferred to monitor the Tahiti program, it was almost an upgrade of sorts. No Pym or McCoy, no other doctors — just a lab and a direction to find a way to deliver his poison without the possibility of premature injection. A good shot to the chest could prove lethal if it broke open his device, after all.

And Fury needed twenty-four working devices that would not deploy on impact or in any other situation — the devices should _only_ deploy when activated. But as for the poison itself, the dual methods of injection — one for pain and one for death — had intrigued the director.

But it still wasn't quite _enough._ There was of course the fact that these children in the Games came from such diverse backgrounds. A few were already fond of poisons or had been exposed to them in their early years and would have a better immunity than others… and others would be killed outright by even the lesser poison. The easiest solution of course would be to simply deliver the poison and kill the children as promised, but there was so much more potential here, especially since so many of them would come _back_ to life.

He would prefer to have a full medical workup on each of them, and of course, he would have it once they reached the Capitol following their Reapings, but for the moment, he could only work with what he had. Different poisons for each based on tolerance and other factors — and he was sure he had a method of injection that would leave the business end of the device inside their bodies even after the tracers were pulled. No sense in wasting all that work, after all. And it really was so convenient to have bargaining chips.

He should really be thanking Fury. Putting him in a separate lab, giving him a secret project — the man was practically handing him control of the next round of Tahiti operatives.

* * *

 _April 29_

 _District Two_

* * *

"Why didn't you come visit me when you were in town?" Viper asked as she dropped down into the chair across from Bobbi. "I thought you might want to see how things worked in Low Town."

"That was the plan, but I got stuck with Hunter for the weekend," Bobbi admitted, looking annoyed. "He apparently couldn't handle that many corpses. The neighborhood isn't exactly up to your usual standard of subtlety."

"Well … no one misses the people that go missing out there," she said with a wave. "And apparently, my men are a bit lax in how far they drag them."

"Sounds like you need to find new help," Bobbi said.

"Yes," she said with a growing smile. "Perhaps it _is_ time to cycle them out … I have been working on some new compounds, though. Incapacitate instead of kill. Just for fun."

Bobbi leaned forward with a little smile of her own, one that she had learned how to use almost from the first day she'd won her Games in order to survive Viper's interests. "Anything like what you gave me in the Capitol? I'm still disappointed I didn't get to try it out to any real _result_."

"Oh, darling girl, I'll make sure you get _plenty_ of opportunities to test with me if that's what you'd like." Viper let out a little delighted laugh. "It's more fun when you have someone to help guide you the first few times. Saves you from accidentally going too far, too fast."

Bobbi tipped her head to the side. "I've been dabbling in biology and biochemistry where I can. It could be interesting," she admitted.

"Then you would _appreciate_ some of my newest gems," Viper said with one eyebrow raised in interest. "Come by. I'll take you through my lab."

"Madripoor or your 'official' residence?" Bobbi asked with a bit of a smirk.

"Official, of course," she said. "That's where I keep my most fun toys. I can't afford for someone to look at anything I leave in Madripoor unless I'm prepared for them to take it."

"Yes, I did have to stop four different pickpockets while I was there."

"Oh, they don't steal from _me_ — it's more a distribution point," she clarified. "If I brought my lab there, then my buyers would want to take it before I was ready to part with them."

Bobbi just had to laugh a bit. "And here I thought it was just a hobby."

"Why would I keep all those beautiful concoctions to myself? That would be … well. Depriving the depraved."

"It must just be me then — I'd rather keep all those secrets to myself," Bobbi said with a shrug. "More of an advantage that way."

"Oh, the best ones I keep for myself. Those that do the job too quickly — or that are easy enough to reverse — those are sold." She smiled a bit wider as she thought it over.

Bobbi grinned at her mentor before she just couldn't help but say, "I think I'll need to see some of those for myself — and build up an immunity." She laughed quietly and shook her head at the quick addition.

"That's a long process," Viper said with one eyebrow raised. "And not all of them are something you can build up a tolerance to."

"Then we should start it — but as grateful as I am for the offer, you have to admit, I'm not going anywhere near the 'fun' ones without a little protection — anything I can get. I've seen the corpses."

"No, you really shouldn't," she agreed as she thought it over. "When you come by, be prepared to be ill. None of them will be pleasant"

"I'll be there before breakfast, then. No point in losing the contents of my stomach in your living room if I can help it."

* * *

 _May 4_

 _Labs in the Triskellion_

* * *

"How is it coming along?" Coulson asked as he peeked in on the most restricted section of Fitzsimmons' labs. They'd already been working for over a month on their line of creepy crawlies and, frankly, monsters — and it wasn't exactly his favorite place to visit, if he was honest. "They'll be ready in time and aggressive enough, I hope."

"Oh, that's not going t'be a problem, sir," Fitz said in an overly exaggerated sigh, gesturing at some of the glass cases holding the scorpions the two of them were using for comparative study. They weren't even enhanced; they were just mean, and they'd had to be separated in large tanks to keep them from killing each other.

"The real problem is going to be getting the look right," Simmons chimed in.

"Not … what? Evil enough?" Coulson asked as he watched one of them tear apart a rat with its claws.

"They're too easy to spot," Simmons explained. "The dark coloration — we need to give them lighter coloring, more reds and yellows."

"Maybe not feeding them red-blooded creatures would help," Fitz suggested for what had to be the thirtieth time.

"Fitz," Simmons sid with a sigh, shaking her head. "Fitz, you know that their diet has nothing to do with their physical characteristics."

"It does when they get that big … the ones we started with were straw-colored." He tipped his chin at the cage. "But you've been spoiling them again."

Simmons shook her head at him. "I have not — we _want_ them bigger. This is only about a third of the size we want at _minimum_."

"Then we'll need to breed some giant cockroaches or something to feed them instead if you want them colored properly," he replied distractedly.

"We'll need to breed some other foodstuff for the other mutts anyway," Simmons said, as it was clear she was now seizing on the idea.

"How are the swamp monsters coming?" Coulson asked, eager to get the subject off of the giant creepy crawlies.

"Oooh, now _those_ are a challenge," Simmons said, seemingly only more excited by the idea.

"So you figured out how to keep them vicious once they get big?" he asked.

She hedged. "Oh, well, no, not yet. Some of the larger creatures get lazy. It might be part of the exothermic nature of the creatures — they have to spend their time regulating their body temperatures. We're trying to work on that, though."

"You wouldn't have this problem if you did dragons like I asked," Coulson pointed out. "They don't even have to be big ones."

Fitz glanced at Simmons and shook his head. "We just don't have the ability to generate continuous heat without destroying the esophagus of our test subjects. Not to mention the sheer amount of food necessary to maintain that kind of internal reaction!"

"I know you have your heart set on dragons, but it really isn't possible," Simmons said consolingly. "We could try building something more biomechanical, but it wouldn't have the right effect."

"No, it's just not the _same_ if it's a robot," Coulson lamented for a moment before moving on with a sigh."Okay, what else have you got?"

"Well." Fitz glanced over at Simmons, and the two of them seemed to shuffle almost in tandem. "We think we might have something for a final mutt."

"Something big and terrifying," Simmons put in.

"Oh?" Coulson asked, perking up despite his best efforts — when the two of them acted like this, it was usually something good, and he knew it from all the time they had spent together as a team.

"Yes, well, we looked over the specs for that poison delivery system, and we noticed that they hadn't decided on a specific poison," Simmons said.

"And Jemma thought maybe she could suggest a few," Fitz added.

"And really, we already have a few different biochemicals here," Simmons said. "But something more natural might be more terrifying."

"And you did say that the spiders _last_ year gave people nightmares," Fitz added.

"So we thought we'd try to combine the two — venomous _and_ nightmarish."

"We're going for _size_ this time," Fitz added. "So… we'll probably need some supplies from Ten."

"Make a list, and I'll make sure you get what you need," Coulson agreed before they could get too lost in their back-and-forth. "So do I get to see this mystery creature, or is it going to be a surprise?"

"Well, it's not quite ready yet," Simmons admitted. "We're using some of last year's mutts for reference, but ... the preliminary tests are encouraging. There shouldn't be the same size issues as with the swamp mutts."

"Yeah, she'll be huge," Fitz agreed.

"Well, you still have plenty of time to work out the kinks," Coulson said. "Which is impressive, honestly."

The two of them beamed at him. "We've been thinking about this one for a while, actually," Fitz admitted.

"The arena just happens to fit it perfectly this time," Simmons agreed.

Coulson nodded. "Great. And the other projects you had going? Are they ready yet, or should I come back later?"

"Ooh, yeah," Fitz said with a bit of a wince. "Sorry, got caught up in this — but the weapons should be ready in the next couple of days.."

"Let me know what you need for both the mutts and the weapons," Coulson said. "Great work so far. Really." With that, he slipped out of the lab and was planning on heading to the Tahiti wing, but someone got in his way.

Skye darted into his path and was walking backwards trying to get him to stop and talk to her. "You can't just walk past me, I'll tackle you if I have to — we _have to talk about this._ "

Coulson just let out a breath. "We already have, Skye. Multiple times. You've made your point very clear."

"Have I? Really? Because it doesn't seem like you paid even a little bit of attention to what I said," She had her arms crossed over her chest as she tried to keep him from passing her by. "This is not what I signed up for."

"I know, and I told you — I won't ask you to do this next year," he told her.

"Why, because I'll be _dead_?" she asked flatly, getting Coulson to frown a little deeper at her.

"No, because it won't be necessary this time next year," he promised. "There won't _be_ a selection process. We're so close, Skye — I know it's hard, but we just need a little more time."

"And my 'students'?" she asked. "Am I supposed to keep working with them too? You know. Since you don't seem to really _need me_ around here anymore if I'm not going to be any good for the advice you _hired me to give_."

"Anyone who needs a refresher or wants to keep training, yes," Coulson replied. "I thought you liked working with them."

"I do — or .. yeah, I do, but it's so irregular with any of them…."

"That's true of everyone working in SHIELD right now. We go where we're needed," Coulson pointed out gently.

"Fine. Whatever. Just — try to give me more than a few hours notice next time," she said, waving her hand dismissively at him with a clearly annoyed sort of huff.

Coulson smirked a bit at that. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try to give you a more regular schedule."

"You _like_ screwing with me," she accused him, one finger in the middle of his chest. "Not cool, Van Helsing. Not cool at all."

"I promise, I'm not trying to screw with you," he said with that same smirk. "I didn't hear any complaints the last time you had short notice, so I assumed we were fine."

"You mean the night I kicked you in the face for waking me up with no coffee?"

"You didn't get my face," Coulson replied.

"Uh-huh," she said, her chin tipped up. "Whatever you say, AC."

He let out a sigh and stepped around her. "I promise, Skye, I've taken every concern you've brought to me to the highest levels. But it's ultimately not my decision to make."

She deflated a little and let out a sigh, finally losing some of her steam now that he'd at least acknowledged why she was so upset. "I know. I'm just … _mad_. About so much of all of this. It's not right, any of it _._ "

"I know," he agreed, matching her body language by dropping his shoulders as well. "If it were up to me, every name on that list would come from the same stock as the types in Ten."

"Just .. let me know when it's time to work with the kids on programming and hacking again," she said with a wave as she spun on her heel. "Not like I've got anywhere to go, all things considered."

Coulson frowned after her as he watched her stalk off. He had hoped Skye would eventually come around to the same point that Fitzsimmons had reached — treating the whole thing as part of the job and keeping it separate in their minds from the kids they met on the other side. But that clearly just wasn't going to happen with the little hacker.

He didn't have time to have that conversation with her again, not with the Games in less than two months. When this was all said and done, though, he'd be sure to sit down with Skye — and maybe give her a gentle push in Charles Xavier's direction.


	58. Weapons Labs

**Notes: This chapter… was just a lot of fun.**

* * *

 **Chapter 58: "Weapons Labs"**

* * *

 _May 6_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

Music was blaring in Tony Stark's workshop, and the young inventor was in a fine mood. The projects he'd been tinkering on for months were finally ready to be shown to their soon to be owners. And the Tahiti kids in question had answered his call — or, to be more precise, they'd come running when Cassie told them to. Same difference, really.

He stopped what he was doing on a rerouting program and spun to face them, shifting himself into presentation mode in a heartbeat. "Ladies and gentlemen," Tony said, arms wide. "Clint."

Clint gave him a dry look for just a heartbeat, then Tony went right back to his selling points.

"May I present to you: your new weapons cache," Tony said. "Hawks to the left, everyone else, the right please. Single file, try not to trample anyone."

The Hawkeyes had arrows. So, _so_ many arrows. So many varieties — and all of them were just a bit different, weighted perfectly for flight, and all of the testing he'd been doing had them working like a charm. He was grinning widely as Clint and Kate tried them out for the first time, laughing and whooping, celebrating the explosions in particular.

"Thought you'd like those, Big Hawk," Tony said over the music as he raised his mug in salute. "Seeing as you don't even need to be precise with them."

Kate giggled at that, but Clint just rolled his eyes and responded by shooting an arrow just past Tony's ear. "Oh look. I missed," he deadpanned.

"Oh, be nice. He's the bringer of toys," Kate laughed and reached over to smack Clint in the arm.

"Santa Stark," Peter agreed with a crooked grin as he and Kurt watched their friends having a blast with all of Tony's inventions.

"That's nothing — you should see what Peter's new toys will do," Tony said with a cocky smirk, waving them over. "Not unlike Clint, he's working on aim now — but man, oh man."

"Oh?" Kurt raised an eyebrow Peter's way.

"You mean there were toys we _missed_?" Kate asked incredulously. "I want to see Pete's new gear!"

"Now, hands off, Hawk-ette," Tony said, still grinning. "Like I said, yours were to the left. This one is _just_ for our friendly neighborhood spiderlad." He led Peter over to the work bench to fit him with the wrist-mounted devices. "Okay. Cartridges. You can carry a ton of them, and for the purpose of demonstrating to our friends, here, you load them like this …" He took a second to show him how the new model worked, then handed it off to Peter. "Alright. Now. Tell Ol' Aunt May you love her." He shifted Peter's shoulders just a bit. "Just … tell her in Clint's general direction."

Clint looked nervous for just a second before Peter made the 'I love you' sign with his hand pointed at Clint, and the next second, Clint let out an 'oof' as a wad of sticky _something_ hit him in the shoulder. But more than hitting him, it pinned him back to the wall — and Kate just started to giggle madly when she saw the white stuff.

"It looks like webbing," she laughed. "Like that stuff we pulled out of your hair last year, Pete."

"Yes, exactly," Tony said with an excited grin as his energy level started to go up a notch higher. "But wait — aim for the center of the door frame and try to catch it." He waved Peter on. "Go. Do it."

Peter raised an eyebrow at Tony and did just that, aiming for the door — though he didn't quite manage to catch the sticky substance until the third try, when he managed to snag the end of it, laughing in surprise when not only did he have the end of the webbing but it had still stuck to the door, and he now had a tether of sorts.

"It'll hold six times your weight anyhow. I haven't tested it further than that," Tony said. "So you can use it for rope if you're quick. Just ... don't try to do too much web-slinging until I get your harness set up. Don't want you to tear an arm out of joint or something."

"It's like a spider version of a grappling arrow," Clint said with a smirk as Kurt finally managed to help him get out of the webbing.

"The formula is totally biodegradable, and it breaks down on its own in a couple of hours, so whatever you leave behind on a mission is already compromised by the time anyone gets to it. They won't be able to replicate it."

"Attaboy Tony — don't let anyone else steal your ideas," Clint said with a grin.

"Actually, the webbing was kinda a joint deal," Tony said. "I just perfected it."

"Yeah, spider webbing does seem more like a Pete idea," Kate said with a grin Peter's way.

"You mean genius? Yes, yes it does," Peter agreed, puffing out his chest a little bit.

Kurt laughed and shook his head. "Now how am I supposed to keep up with the rest of my team, Tony?" he chuckled. "I can't shoot grappling arrows or swing webs — unless you have something to get me across the districts in the blink of an eye?" he asked with a little laugh.

"Ooh, if only," Tony said with a wide grin. "Unfortunately, teleportation is a bit out of reach still."

"You'll just have to hang onto me when we go places," Kate said with a little smile.

"Oh no," Kurt said, matching her smile as Clint rolled his eyes behind them both.

"Well, barring the chance of me figuring out how to not only create the technology for a teleportation device _and_ make it highly portable, I think you're just out of luck," Tony said with a shrug.

Kurt sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll just have to manage."

"Ah, but wait until you see what I've been working on for myself," Tony said, looking far more cocky and proud than he had so far.

"Saving all the best toys for yourself?" Clint teased.

"Well, Essex wanted to keep the separation between the two sides of TAHITI — lab rats and fighters — but … if there's a way I can help get this whole war nonsense over with sooner so I can go live in some tropical beach house with Pepper, then gosh darnit, I will."

He crossed the lab in a few strides and pulled open a tall cabinet — and with a few punches of the keypad attached to the inside, the metal armored suit he'd created lit up. "It's not entirely finished yet. but … when it is, it's going to be like a flying tank."

"Is this what all that tech was for?" Peter asked, wide-eyed, as he took a few steps closer to look over the armor.

"Yes," he said with a nod.

"Wait, you said it _flies_?" Kate said, holding up both hands.

"Well, not yet," he said. "I can hover, but that's about it for now."

"Still more than anyone else can do," Kurt pointed out with a small smirk.

"Weapons systems … laser guided targeting … full computer analysis …. It'll be a mobile command center." Tony was getting more and more pleased with himself as he listed off all that his suit would be able to do, clearly in presentation mode and thrilled to finally be able to show off the project that had been eating his time.

"And all so you can live in a beach house with Pepper," Kurt said, the smirk growing a bit wider.

"Well why else would any sane person go to war?" Tony asked with a frown.

"I wasn't saying it's a bad reason," Kurt defended quickly.

"Don't mind him — he's a hopeless romantic," Kate said with a smile that was way too wide to be allowed as she wrapped her arms around Kurt from behind.

"Well, _you_ certainly don't mind that part," Kurt teased, which got her to laugh and kiss his cheek.

"You're gonna have neighbors, Stark," Clint said Tony's way.

"Who — you and Bobbi?" Peter asked.

"Not thinking that far ahead, to be honest," Clint said. "Why, are you?"

Peter frowned a bit at that. "Yeah, well. I don't have anyone right now," he pointed out, and Clint dropped his teasing grin.

"When we get back home, then," Clint assured him. "You're, like, sixteen. You got time."

"Yeah, one step at a time," Peter agreed, shrugging him off. "How about we win the war first?"

"Hey, why d'you think I'm not planning that far ahead? We haven't even started the revolution, and this kind of thing has casualties," Clint said seriously. "Just…" He shrugged. "Have a little fun in the meantime."

Kate was frowning Clint's way with one eyebrow raised before she reached over and smacked him. "Nope. You're living across the street from me. You don't get a choice in this."

"I thought you were moving up to the crazy huge trees in Seven," Clint said, rubbing his arm where she had hit him.

"Yep, and you're coming with me," she said in a tone that brokered no argument.

"Sounds like the Better Hawkeye has it all planned out for you, Barton," Tony said with a smirk.

"Story of my life," Clint grumbled, shaking his head before he shouldered the quiver of new toys. "Thanks for the presents, Santa Stark. See ya next Christmas," he said with a shrug as he headed out the door.

"Only if you're a good boy, Barton! Otherwise, contact my office for refills."

* * *

 _May 11_

 _Fitzsimmons' Lab_

* * *

It was almost becoming part of the routine for Logan after his missions to go from Fury's debriefing to the lab with the science geeks, half because he came back almost always needing medical attention and half because they were clearly working on something that, for some reason, required him.

So when Logan came in through the door of their lab, both of them broke out into _huge_ smiles and waved him over.

"Announcing your engagement?" Logan teased.

"Oh please," Simmons said, a little red-faced. "Like you'd be the first to know."

"Yeah. Fifth or sixth at least," Fitz said with a nod.

"Just means the door's still open," he countered quietly Fitz's way before he turned to Simmons with a much gentler tone. "And you don't need to come at me with the needle again, doc. I'm _fine_. I wasn't shot. No exposure to anything either."

Simmons paused for a moment and then shook her head. "Oh, no — this isn't a drug test or anything like that. This is for _Fitz_."

Fitz nodded at that, his hands on his hips as he looked at Logan with his chin tipped up. "We've got to make sure we don't _kill_ you, and Jemma knows biochem better than I do."

Logan gave him a crooked smirk at his defensive stance. "Oh, right. The territorial death threat or whatever," Logan said with a wave as he relaxed further. "Kinda been waiting for that. Didn't think you had it in you."

"It's not a _death threat_ ," Simmons insisted, giving Fitz a little look. "It won't kill you — we just want to make sure your body will accept it so we don't have to ... cut it out of you." She gave him a little sheepish smile.

"Sounds like you're escalating from needles," he said with a little frown. "You got a weird way of flirtin', darlin'. And I'm starting to wonder what the hell you're up to."

"That's what the blood tests are for," Fitz said. "Don't worry — we won't have to cut anything out of anyone."

"No. No, we won't," Simmons assured him, smiling at him from across the lab. "At most, we might have to adjust the alignment or give you an injection or two." She said _this_ as if it was completely nonthreatening and normal, even grinning widely at him.

"More excuses," he said as they urged him deeper into the lab. "You just gotta come at me with needles, don't you?"

"Oh, all the time," Simmons said with a little laugh.

"There are easier ways to get your hands on me," he teased, taking her off-guard and pulling a nervous laugh from her.

"But so much less fun," Simmons finally shot back with a smile.

"Says you. You haven't even _tried_ any of the other ways. Is this something I watch — or are you going to drug me first and let me wake up when you're done having your wicked way with me?"

"It's just a few blood tests," Simmons said, waving him off with a distinctly pink tinge to her cheeks while Fitz looked totally gobsmacked and borderline angry.

"Today."

"Well, if you insist on coming back with bullets in your body, then, yes, yes I will have to drug you first and 'have my wicked way'," Simmons countered.

"I may have to then," he said with a smirk as he took a seat and rolled up his sleeve for her.

She shook her head at him and proceeded to take several vials of blood. As she slipped away to run a few tests, though, Fitz stayed behind, reading through a few notations on whatever project it was those two were conspiring on together and glancing up at Logan from time to time.

"So you gonna tell me what you're waiting for?" Logan asked.

"Just a few more blood tests and a dilution of the metal," Fitz said distractedly.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Logan said, tipping his head pointedly in the direction that Simmons had disappeared. "She's cute."

Fitz stopped for a moment and turned Logan's way, looking uncomfortable. "Ah ... yes. Well. See, that's a common misconception. I know we've been together for a while..."

"Then you're not interested?" Logan asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Ah." Fitz shifted. "That's not the question, is it?"

"It's the one I'm asking," he replied.

"No, no, see — no, Jemma is my _partner_ ," Fitz stammered a bit. "We've been together since the Academy. And that's great — that… I like being her partner."

"She seein' someone else?"

"That's not really any of your business," Fitz said with a bit of color in his cheeks.

"Why not? It could be," Logan replied, looking past him again. "Like I said. She's cute."

"That's not — no, no. No, she's not — you two wouldn't — no—"

Logan smirked at Fitz's flustered reaction. "You never know," Logan said low. "And if you're not interested …"

"And — and what if I was?" Fitz said, sticking out his chin. "Interested, I mean," he added in a quieter tone that ruined his earlier attempt at being defiant.

"You already said you weren't," Logan pointed out. "But if you were … I _might_ consider letting it go."

Fitz's mouth moved wordlessly for a moment, and he couldn't come up with anything to say. But Simmons came over a moment later with a little smile and the results of Logan's blood tests. "I don't see any problems going forward — everything looks good," she told Fitz, though she paused when she saw the look on his face. "Oh, Fitz — what did you do?" she asked.

"What did I — what did _I_ do?" Fitz spluttered a bit.

Logan's smirk grew into a smile as he watched Simmons shake her head at Fitz and then turn to him. "Is he telling you he's going to kill you again, because really, he's simply underselling himself."

"Not yet, darlin', but we're gettin' there," Logan said. He couldn't help but smile at how the two of them were tap dancing, and he knew Fitz was at a total loss. But Simmons remained oblivious, and kept talking.

"Well, he's not … that's ridiculous — his designs are flawless. Genius, even. I've _seen_ them, and I'm telling you, it's going to be amazing," Simmons said with a warm smile Fitz's way as she started to gather up supplies.

"Yes, yes they are," Fitz said with a slow nod.

"See?" Simmons turned to Logan with a bright smile and a little laugh. "Don't let him worry you — and Fitz, really, you _shouldn't_ be so down on yourself. It's very nearly perfect, and you know it."

"Very _nearly_ ," Fitz shot back.

"Only because we haven't finished the bonding process," Simmons corrected. "And really, that's more my fault than yours — I've been so _busy_ with our other projects—"

"No, no, I get caught up too—"

"But you've had it on my desk for so long—"

"I had a bit of inspiration the other day. I'm behind on the numbers you wanted me to crunch for Nessie."

"You really shouldn't call her that," Simmons said, shaking her head.

"She responds to it now, though," Fitz insisted.

"No, she doesn't."

"Yes, she does. I can get her attention—"

"Fitz, that's just nonsense," Simmons said, shaking her head at him.

"Well, if you lovebirds are finished with me …" Logan said, shaking his head at the two of them while he started to roll his sleeve back down.

"We're not—" Fitz started to say, but Simmons got to Logan first and rested her hand on his arm to stop him from going anywhere.

"No, no, I'm sorry, but I do have just a few more needles for you," she admitted with a little sheepish smile, then stepped back toward her bench. "Since your blood tests came back clean, we can start up a few injections, to start the process."

"How often do I need these injections?" Logan asked, watching as she began to draw up several doses in glass syringes.

"Oh, it's not terrible. It'll just be a couple of things over the next few days. We should be able to finish up by, oh, what would you say, Fitz?" Simmons glanced over at her partner.

"Next Wednesday," Fitz said with a little nod. "At the latest."

"So you're going to shoot me up with ... whatever this is and send me back to Seven?" Logan asked.

"Oh, no — I thought you had the next week or so with us?" Simmons looked a bit wide-eyed. "Did we miss a change to the schedule?"

Fitz shook his head with a frown, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the scene and headed back to his computer to check once again. "I checked it this morning," he said quietly, looking it over once again with both Jemma and Logan watching him until he nodded. "Yeah. You're here for a while."

"Why am I not surprised? It's like they want to leave me in the lurch," Logan muttered under his breath. "Last to know."

"Oh, well, you're supposed to be here for at least the next week and a half," Simmons told him, going back to her careful measuring. "We'll need to see you twice a day. I thought you knew." She was frowning slightly as she gathered up the medications and started to head toward him.

But Logan shook his head lightly. "I don't know what's going on until it's happening."

"Well that's no good," Simmons said, shaking her head. "I could never do that much spontaneity."

"She likes _structure_ ," Fitz explained with a significant look pointed Logan's way.

"And rules," Simmons agreed as she waited expectantly for Logan to take off the overshirt. "And I like to know what I'm doing."

"Of course you do," Logan said, unbuttoning his flannel. "That's why you two work so well together." He was smiling as he gave Fitz a pointed look. "That's what _lab partners_ need."

"Soooo we'll just see you in here tomorrow, then?" Fitz said in an extremely unsubtle attempt to get Logan _gone._

"Fitz." Simmons gave him a tired look as he tipped back his head and looked incredibly put out while Simmons laid out the last couple syringes and kept a hand on Logan's arm while she used her alcohol swabs.

"So, what is this stuff?" Logan asked, watching her as she administered the first of the shots. "Or do the lab rats not get to know until after the experiment is over?"

"Oh, well, it's a cocktail of different drugs that will help to… well, some of it is to stave off infection, and some of it is to keep your immune system from attacking our pet project — and the rest of it is to help the bonding process itself," Simmons explained as she worked through the shots in front of her.

"Thus why we have to spread it out over several injections," Fitz supplied.

"Yes, if we did it all at once, it would kill you," Simmons agreed.

"So I should expect to feel like crap then?" Logan asked. "And let me guess, no drinking."

"No alcohol," she agreed, looking sympathetic as she rested her hand on his forearm, "And you should probably stay away from coffee as well."

"Tea should be okay though," Fitz put in.

"And if you could manage not to get shot or otherwise introduce any foreign objects into your body, that would be lovely," Simmons added.

"I'm generally against foreign objects," he agreed. "As a blanket rule."

"With as many bullets as you bring me, _no_ one would believe that," she said with a wide smile before she plunged the last of the syringes into his arm.


	59. Out of the Red Room

**Chapter 59: "Out Of The Red Room"**

* * *

 _May 13_

 _Raft Prison Facility_

* * *

Natasha hadn't been warned that she had a session, so when Fury and Xavier showed up, she was in the middle of the little dance routine she'd choreographed for herself. She paused mid-releve and turned toward them, still on her toes as she wasn't sure how long an unannounced visit would last — and if it was going to be fast, she would prefer to get back to what she was doing without interruptions. "I'm not up to a performance just yet," she said with a wry little grin.

"Then how about a breath of fresh air?" Charles asked with a pleased smile.

At that, she came down off of her toes and glanced between the two of them, trying not to let her expression betray too much of her surprise. "A walk on the roof, then? Or….?"

"A nice flight?" Charles offered. "Unless you prefer your cage here." He couldn't help but smirk at her, and she recognized the terminology — he was teasing her with the same words that she had used to describe what the Red Room had done to her. It wasn't malicious, but it wasn't like Clint, either — but it was nice to be teased, she decided.

"I'm done with cages, if it's all the same to you," she replied, shaking her head the slightest bit, though there was no mistaking the smile starting to spread over her face before she could quite tamp it down. "When do we leave?"

Fury made a motion for one of the guards to come forward with a small bundle of clothes. "We'll give you a few minutes to change, and then I'll go over the rules with you on the way out. I'm sure you're smart enough that I shouldn't have to repeat myself."

"No, that won't be necessary," she agreed with the slightest of nods before she simply started to take off the shoes so she could get changed more quickly — working faster once the two men had given her a little privacy to change into the unfamiliar clothes. She hadn't worn jeans in so long that it felt strange on her skin, and she had to smile just a bit at the stiffness of the fabric against her.

When she was ready, Fury opened the door and settled into a very serious expression. "Consider yourself on probation," he said as he handed her a badge of sorts. "I'm not going to put the black bag on your head this time, but you step out of line or lay one finger on our people and you'll be back here so fast it'll make your head spin."

"I understand," she said as she took the badge with a little nod.

"Now," he said as he pointed at the badge. "You can't be seen outside of this cell block looking the way you do." He showed her the button on the side of it. "Press that, and we can take you back to Tahiti. I understand you've got at least one friend there that is looking forward to seeing you again."

"Just the one," she said with a little sigh before she pressed the button, and she seemed to shimmer for a moment before she became an entirely different person — dark-haired and with more angular features and about ten years older than she was. She let out a low whistle as she examined herself.

"You won't be training as much as the others. We don't want to over tax you," Charles said.

"And if you decide to take an interest, and I do hope that you consider it, you'll be on a support team to run missions," Fury said. "Support _only_ — and strictly supervised."

"You don't need to baby me. I can train as much as the others," Natasha said.

"It's not a matter of babying you," Charles said gently. "It's to maintain your mental health. Of course, you _can_ increase your training, as long as you don't slip."

She let out a sigh at that. "And here I thought I was done with what they did to me."

"I hope you are," Charles said. "But I'm afraid only time will tell." His eyes sparkled a bit as he smiled at her. "And the barre has been installed in one of the training rooms. If you're interested."

She paused for a moment. "How public is the training room?"

"That one is smaller, quite private," Charles said. "You can even close the curtain over the window."

Her shoulders relaxed the slightest bit on hearing it, and she nodded quietly. "Thank you," she said his way before she looked to Fury, and her tone and body language was suddenly much more business-like. "Now. What about this team of yours?"

"They're down one operative for a while," he said. "And while he's out of the running, they just need eyes on the intel. Someone to watch their backs."

She shrugged. "Simple enough to start with."

"You'll have a partner," he continued.

She nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to let me wander on my own."

"Good. When we get back, I'll arrange for someone to show you to your new room. Doors lock at eleven, unlock at seven. Other than that, you're free to make friends in the wing and explore it at your leisure."

She tipped her head to the side with the slightest of frowns. "You trust me to walk freely among your operatives?"

"Not particularly," he said. "And I'm sure they won't trust you either. So I don't expect them to let their guard down while you try to integrate with what I hope will be your new teammates."

"Well at least they're smart," she said with the slightest of smirks.

Fury tipped his chin down as he gave her an appraising sort of look. "Play nice. The Games are a thing of the past for you — and for them."

"I give you my word I won't attack anyone who doesn't attack me," she said honestly.

"Good, but if they do attack you? You're within your rights to stop them — _not_ kill them, am I clear?"

She paused for just a moment before she said, "Crystal."

* * *

On landing, Fury ushered them in, with Natasha pushing Charles' chair past all the security checkpoints until they were all three in the center of the TAHITI project. The final door closed with an echoing clang that had her fighting the urge to flinch as she looked around the much more normal-looking side of the project. She had never been on this side of things before.

"Kill the badge," Fury said before he held his hand out for her to give it to him.

She handed it over without looking, still taking in the Tahiti area, her gaze sweeping over the open hallways and easy access to everything. "This is almost cozy," she said with a little smirk.

"Almost," Fury said with a nod. "Only so much you can do, but we like our operatives somewhat comfortable if we can manage it." He gestured to the hallway in front of them that led down to the main gathering area that the kids seemed to gravitate to more often than not. They were only halfway there when Fury picked up his comm and called for his tour guide to meet him in the main lounge area.

Natasha looked honestly surprised — and pleased — when she saw that it was her former mentor, Bobbi, waiting in the lounge, though the older girl had her hip cocked to one side and her arms folded over her chest, clearly not about to forget the last time they'd been in a room together.

"You girls need to get over your little tiff," Fury said. "Morse — Romanoff needs to learn the lay of the land. I've already given her the big rules. Cover the rest and make sure she knows how to find Xavier and Coulson." He turned to Natasha now, looking as deadly serious as he ever had with her. "Don't do anything to make me regret this."

"We'll be fine," Natasha said, shrugging up one shoulder, though she and Bobbi were still half watching each other.

"You going to make me put you on the ground again?" Bobbi asked.

"Not unless you ask me to," Natasha replied smoothly. "I heard from Clint that you're a trainer here; I don't mind helping to showcase a move or two."

"That won't be necessary," Bobbi replied before she gestured for her to get moving. She took her through the basic tour as Cassie always did, pausing at all the different training rooms so she could take a peek and see what each had to offer. "There are trainers of all different kinds here, different specialties, different styles. None of them what you're used to," she said pointedly.

"That actually sounds nice," Natasha said, shrugging up one shoulder. "Charles told me to take it easy in training, after all."

"Good," she said with a nod as she watched her carefully. "Offices are this way," she said, quickly pointing out Charles and Coulson — and how to get medical attention if she needed it for anything before she took her toward the cafeteria, where most of the kids were. "Your room is the furthest down the girls' hall on the left. You don't share with anyone. Once you start on missions, you can do like everyone else does and pick up things to personalize it. No weapons in your room. Not for now."

"Not sure what I would personalize my room with beyond weapons, but I'll come up with something," she said with a smirk.

"Think paint. Or photographs," Bobbi suggested before she took a breath and looked toward the cafeteria. "Are you ready for this?"

"I think so," Natasha said, and it was the first time that she hadn't sounded entirely self-assured. "Anyone in there that I tried to kill? I mean, besides Clint."

"Who did you try to kill?" she asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Seven — and I betrayed the rest of the Careers and helped tag-team the Fives alliance to kill the girl," she replied.

"Seven isn't here," Bobbi said. "But Wade is here, as well as the girl from Five. Her district partner, and the little girl they were protecting, are here too. They are pretty forgiving, though."

Natasha frowned for a moment — it was a solid list of people who would like to have her head, and she knew it — before she nodded to herself. "Lead the way."

Bobbi paused and tipped her head to the side. "If it's too much, I _will_ pull you out of there."

"I appreciate the support, but I can take it," Natasha told her. After all, she wasn't going to shy away from the consequences of anything she'd done — and she _especially_ wasn't going to let anyone else take those consequences for her.

Bobbi nodded and then gave her the start of a smile. "Yeah, but maybe you don't have to." She gave her one last look before she nodded and pushed the door open, leading the way — for the first few strides in the door anyhow.

But as soon as Clint had seen Natasha behind Bobbi, he broke into a huge smile and beat anyone else in the room for reaction time as he ran over and scooped her up in a spinning hug. "Hey! Welcome to Tahiti, Tasha!" he said, positively beaming when he set her back down.

She looked totally surprised by his reaction, but there was also no mistaking the smile on her face as she tentatively returned the hug. "Hello, Clint," she said, squeezing him for maybe a few seconds before she let go.

"Guys, Natasha's been cleared by Fury and Xavier. For the most part," Bobbi said in a raised tone. "Help her out if you can. It took a lot of work on her part to get here."

"Clint's been excited for you to get here," Kate said as she moved to join her fellow Hawkeye, though Natasha didn't quite look like she believed the smile on Kate's face. "I didn't really meet you before, but Clint told me a lot about you in the Games. I'm Kate," she said, extending her hand with a warm smile, and Natasha took it carefully, still gauging Kate's reaction.

Natasha had barely gotten through her introduction to Kate when Wade simply picked her up from behind and began to spin her in circles. "Oh, cranky redhead! My favorite non-Hawk alliance member! Forsooth!"

"You really didn't have that many alliance members to choose from," Natasha pointed out, shaking her head a bit and looking still wary of the warm reception as she had clearly expected something decidedly less… huggable.

"Yes, but … I can tell," Wade said, waggling his finger at her. "I can tell we're going to be good friends now."

"I did promise not to kill anyone," she said dryly.

"Oh, did I miss that section of the pledges? Does that mean I have to start over? Spankings? Anyone?" Wade said, looking around the little crowd. "Any takers at all?"

Natasha just shook her head and let out a breath almost like a laugh. "I wasn't sure, but that's unmistakable. So, did they bring you back and fix _everything_ , then?" she asked, her gaze flicking up to his face.

"Well ... as much as they could," he said. "No murderous bloodthirsty bunnies, and the voices? Gone." He paused and looked as if he was looking for them. "So … far, anyhow."

"Fixed up my ear, too," Clint told Natasha with a small grin. "Didn't get to tell you about that when you were all…" He waved his hand.

Natasha turned to Clint and raised both eyebrows at the revelation before an entirely different expression passed over her face and she let out all her breath as once. "Yeah. Sorry about that," she said.

"Wasn't your fault," he said, waving her off.

"But I still did it," Natasha insisted. "And I _am_ sorry." She looked toward where Steve and Carol hadn't gotten up from their table. "Like I said — I promised I wouldn't kill anyone," she said toward the two blondes from Five.

"Pretty sure it wouldn't be as easy this time around anyhow," Carol replied, her arms crossed as she watched her.

"Yes, well, I haven't been allowed to train for a few months, so I may be rusty enough to give you a chance," Natasha said with a small smirk. "But let's not test that theory. I gave my word, and I'm trying to have something like a code."

Carol and Steve shared a look before they glanced over at Ororo, who looked toward Natasha warily for a moment. "Are you on our side now?" Ororo asked. "And will you stay there?"

Natasha looked toward the much younger girl and held her gaze for a while. "I think so," she said, deciding honestly was the best possible policy with Ororo — and a bit surprised to see that both of her former alliance members were looking to the young girl with such deference. It was a dynamic she wasn't prepared for — or used to.

Ororo studied her for a moment before she finally nodded. "Then I'll give you a chance," she said before she let a little smile grace her features. "Welcome to the group."

Natasha inclined her head the slightest bit Ororo's way in acknowledgement, glancing around to see if there was anyone else that she needed to make quick peace with — but when it mostly seemed to be the case that the group at large was taking Ororo's welcome as a sign to give Natasha a chance, she let out her breath. "Thank you."

"Come and sit with me, Natasha," Ororo said with a sly smile. "You look hungry."

For a moment, Natasha paused, but she had already determined that she would take whatever these kids had to dish out, so she strode over to the table to sit across from Ororo, her hands folded in front of her and her back straight.

"This isn't a job interview," Ororo said. "Relax if you can. We're not plotting to kill you either."

"You'd be perfectly within your rights to," Natasha pointed out.

"I'm done killing Careers," Ororo said with a wave.

Natasha couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Who did you get?"

The little white-haired girl looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment. "Your big blonde leader — but it came back to bite me," she admitted.

"Brunhilde?"

"No, the boy that killed T'Challa," she replied with a flash of anger in her eyes.

"Oh, Thor." Natasha nodded quietly. "Where is T'Challa?"

"He's not here," Ororo said with a tone of sadness. "I don't know if they couldn't do it, or what, but he's not here. They didn't tell me any details on why they brought back who they did."

"I'm still trying to figure that out myself. It took them nearly a year to get me here," Natasha admitted. "It seems like a lot of effort when they could have gone for easier tributes."

"But you are here now, so let's forget what was, and focus on what is," the bright-eyed girl said in a conspiratory tone.

Natasha had to smirk a bit and lean forward. "And what is today?" she asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Preparation for the future," Ororo decided. "And you want to be on my team."

"I do?"

"You just don't argue with a goddess," Steve advised.

Natasha looked between Steve and Ororo and had to shake her head. "Oh, is that what you have them calling you? I'm impressed."

Ororo smiled her way and started to pull Natasha into the conversation she'd been having before with Steve and Carol, though Carol watched her warily more than anything else. Still, it was the best that could be hoped for when it came to reintroducing a former Career — and former Red Room recruit — into Tahiti.

Hopefully, it would keep going this well.


	60. Hippocratic Oath

**Notes: This chapter's a bit of a longer one, but it covers a lot of important ground, so… ta da.**

* * *

 **Chapter 60: "Hippocratic Oath"**

* * *

 _May 16_

 _Fitzsimmons' Labs_

* * *

Logan had been absolutely miserable ever since Simmons started up her injections as preparation for whatever the heck her secret project with Fitz was — but when he came into the lab that morning for the next round of shots looking positively _gray_ , Simmons decided enough was enough.

"That's it," she said, shaking her head as she directed him to a place to sit down. "You're staying here. Have you eaten anything — at all? Or managed to keep it down at all?"

"Ah, no," he muttered. "Haven't tried, to be honest."

She let out a breath and looked even more worried at that before she hurriedly scribbled down a few notes on a pad and started to set up an IV for him, passing the pad to Fitz so he could get her the supplies she needed. "Well, we're just going to have to keep you here until we're through," she told him apologetically. "I _did_ promise we wouldn't kill you, after all."

"You sure you're not trying?" he asked, having lost a bit of faith in whatever the hell they were up to now, and not up to his usual picking and flirting at all.

She patted his shoulder almost absently as she nodded at him. "This… this won't kill you as long as we keep you hydrated and get you on an IV," she promised.

"Anything to stick me with more needles, eh?"

She had to smirk a bit at that and let out a breath of a laugh. "I really am sorry," she said as she got the IV pole set up. "All your tests are showing normal — this is just… well. We did give you _quite_ a few drugs."

As Simmons set up Logan's IV line and he leaned back with his eyes closed, Coulson poked his head in the lab and frowned on seeing Logan's state. "I thought you said the process was going well," he said.

"It is!" Simmons tried to say, then paused. "I mean, for how new it is, for the parameters of the project — everything is operating more or less how we expected it to for the bonding process itself. But with _any_ drug cocktail, there are bound to be side effects…" She shook her head. "Maybe if we'd been able to do more tests with live animals before human trials…" she muttered to herself.

"Are you serious right now?" Logan asked, for the first time giving her a real glare.

But she gave him a little smile. "Oh, don't worry," she tried to reassure him.

"You've never done this before," Logan replied in a dull tone.

She tipped her chin up a bit. "I've run thousands of experiments, and my success rate is unparalleled, except for Dr. Strange and Dr. Essex."

"Third best medical mind in all of Marvel," Fitz chimed in as he arrived with several supplies in his hands.

"Or at least the Capitol," Simmons corrected him gently. "We can't forget Dr. McCoy …"

Logan didn't look like he believed either of them one iota. "Yeah?" Logan challenged. "What exactly are you doing, anyhow? Since clearly I'm not going anywhere."

Simmons let out a breath. "Trying to prep you for the weapons Fitz has already made," she said. "Oh — but you probably don't know the… Right! They're biomechanic — thus the need for all the tests," she said, as if this cleared everything up perfectly. "If it was any other kind of weapon, _obviously_ we wouldn't need to do all this."

"But if it works," Fitz chimed in with a wide grin, "you're not ever going to have to worry about being caught with your defenses down. Ever."

" _When_ it works, Fitz," Simmons countered with a small smile. "Not if."

Logan glanced between the two of them with a somewhat resigned expression. "Do I really want to know …"

"Well, we're not allowed to tell you the _finer_ details, on the off chance that it _doesn't_ work," Simmons said, looking truly apologetic. "For right now, you'll just have to trust us with the information you have thus far — and then if it doesn't work, well, we tried, right?"

"But trust me, if you knew the details, you'd be excited," Fitz agreed.

"So … I get to just … be your little lab rat and hope it works the way you've got it sketched out," Logan said. "Sounds perfect." The tone was purely sarcastic as he leaned his head back.

Simmons looked honestly apologetic as she just let out a breath and nodded. "I'm sorry about that," she offered. "I'm sure this is nothing like what you thought it would be when you signed up." She shifted slightly and bit her lip. "If it helps, I don't think the side effects will continue once we're finished with the injections. And you only have a little while longer with those — they're doing exactly what we want them to."

"You know — except for the part where he boots his lunch everywhere," Fitz put in helpfully, which earned him a little glare from his partner.

"And I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you can't just knock me out, right?" Logan asked, looking between them.

Simmons looked apologetic. "Sedation would _not_ be good for you right now," she told him. "And I don't want to add anything _else_ to the mix, since you seem to have found your way to the worst side effects for a few of the drugs."

Logan glared. "Neither one of you is allowed to bitch about anything when I gotta come back to get bullets fished out. Ever."

The two scientists glanced at each other before they both nodded in unison. "That's fair," Fitz said, looking nearly as apologetic as Simmons did.

Logan glared at both of them hard for a moment before he leaned back again and tried to get somewhat comfortable. "How long do I have to be here?"

"Just a few more days," Simmons promised.

"We can bring you some magazines or something while you wait," Fitz said with a small but slowly growing smile. "Or we could have Skye bring them."

"Why the hell would you do that?" Logan asked with a bit of a growl.

"Well," Simmons said with a glance Fitz's way. "It might be easier if you had a friendly face to spend the time, since Fitz and I have some pressing projects."

"Yeah, we can't hang out with you all day," Fitz agreed. "But Skye finished her homework early."

"Don't need the charity, thanks," Logan said flatly.

"Oh, it's no trouble, really," Simmons said, catching on to Fitz' train of thought — as usual.

"I'm sure she'd be happy to keep you company," Fitz agreed.

"Something to do," Simmons said.

"Yes, for both of you."

"Since you're both just waiting around for the moment."

"We could find some movies," Fitz offered.

"For a pair of people that say they're too busy to be screwing around with this stuff, you sure as hell have a lot of time to waste plotting out nonsense," Logan grumbled.

"It's no trouble," Fitz said with a shrug.

"Yes, we can find Skye on our way to our secondary lab," Simmons agreed.

"And she knows where the movies are."

"Really just a two-minute detour."

"Coulson …" Logan muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

But the agent in the doorway was just smirking at the whole thing for a while before, shaking his head and still wearing that same clearly amused expression, he tipped his head at his scientists. "If you two are done here, I do need a progress report on your other projects. We do have a deadline, after all."

Fitz and Simmons glanced at each other before they both seemed to slump their shoulders at the same time. "Yes, well…" Simmons said.

"Have you fixed that endo- or exo- thermic whatever the problem was yet?" Coulson asked pointedly.

That got both of them looking a bit guilty. "We'll get right on that," Fitz promised, and in a matter of minutes, they'd gathered up all they needed and swept out of the lab to finish up work on their secondary project — whatever that was.

"What the hell is wrong with those two?" Logan asked, glaring at the IV in his arm.

Coulson shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure, but they do good work, and their hearts are in the right place, so I try not to ask _too_ many questions," he admitted with a light shrug. "And when I do, I don't understand their answers half the time."

Logan looked up at him for a minute. "So this thing that they're doing — do you agree with it?"

Coulson frowned for a moment at that. "I think the project itself is a good idea, but I'd have liked to see better safety numbers before we started on it," he admitted, though it seemed like he was choosing his words carefully. "And more trials."

"And the fact that Fury pushed for it anyway?"

Coulson's frown only deepened. "I did have words with the director, but you know how he can be when he's made up his mind."

"That's what I thought," Logan said before he looked around him a bit and decided to try to lay down. "No damn difference in who's running things. Story's the same."

* * *

 _May 17_

 _Tahiti Training Area_

* * *

Natasha was tired of taking it easy in her training. It had been several days now, and she wanted to get back into something more serious. Something more focused.

She understood that there were concerns about mental health and what-not, but honestly, she was more convinced that she would go insane _without_ something to do. All this aimless, light training was driving her nuts.

The trainers had been told to play along with Charles Xavier's orders to take it easy, and most of the kids — while accepting — were still wary of her. But Clint? Clint had been training hard for the better part of the whole year she had been in confinement — she could see it even if she _hadn't_ known what to look for. He might even be at her level, especially since she'd had a year to atrophy.

In short, he would be a challenge.

She knew that he was usually either in the shooting range or in the area of the training room where Duquesne taught swords and Bobbi taught with staves, so the first place she checked was, of course, the range. But there was only Kate and North there, so she left without a word to either of them and went back to the main rooms, already looking forward to having a good, solid fight with Clint like they used to have before all this mess.

But as she shouldered open the door to one of the training rooms in her search for her sparring partner, she simply… stopped when she saw that she had, in fact, found Clint. But he wasn't training when she found him, instead entirely wrapped up in Bobbi Morse as it looked like what had started as a healthy spar had turned into a makeout session right there on the mat.

She spun on one foot, eyes wide, and shut the door quickly behind her, half in disbelief and entirely unsure of what to make of it. For one thing, she'd never even seen Clint _interested_ in anyone — besides her, and she still wasn't convinced that his stunt in the Games was anything more than that: a stunt — so it was more than a little jarring to see him… like… that. And for another, she was entirely sure neither he nor Bobbi had mentioned anything about this, not in any session and not in the past few days that she'd been walking around freely.

So they were keeping it secret.

She shook her head to herself, pushing aside the thought as soon as it came up. She recognized the source — the Red Room urge to suspect, to assign motive and blame. Though that didn't make the suspicion any less ... well, convincing.

"Miss Romanoff," Coulson called out before she could turn the corner to disappear again. "Are you busy?"

She looked up from the glare she was settling into in a bit of surprise, but then she shook her head. "No — I could use something to do, actually."

"Wonderful," he said with a nod. "Because I've got a job for you."

She allowed a little smile at that. "Finally." She followed him back to his office, still with that same smile, temporarily putting aside the thought of Clint and Bobbi until… well, until she could figure out how she was supposed to react to it. She didn't really have any _claim_ to Clint, so she shouldn't have a reaction at all. So maybe that was what she should do — not react. Let it happen.

"You're in a bit of a unique position," Coulson told her as they made their way to the briefing room. "You're not going out with the other kids — at all. In fact, you should be pretty proud of the team you're on."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow as she pulled her full attention to Coulson. "Who am I going with then — a trainer?"

In lieu of explaining, he held the door open for her, and when she stepped inside, it was to see Maverick and Wraith as they glanced her way for just a moment and went back to their files. Fury was there, clearly just finished with telling the two of them what was happening. "Take a seat, Miss Romanoff."

She slid easily into one of the seats and simply glanced over the group once before looking to her own briefing material — she'd only looked around long enough to know hers was far more sparse than the others, though that was rather impressive, since there wasn't much in any of the files.

"If you all understand your assignments, then we can gear up and go," Fury said, looking at each of them, but clearly spending more time on Natasha.

She met his gaze and gave him a little nod. It was a simple enough first assignment — backup, just like he'd told her when he released her from the Raft. Though the fact that this was the team — and that Fury seemed to be heading it — did have her raising an eyebrow and trying not to look too curious. She understood it, of course — he didn't trust her, so he'd keep an eye on her himself. But she hadn't thought he was the type to _run_ missions.

The two regular team members shared a look and stood up, though they both regarded Natasha with a bit of curiosity before they left the room.

"Your mission suit is in that locker behind you," Fury said. "You'll need the inducer again. It'll only hold a charge until midnight, so don't get any bright ideas about slipping off."

She nodded her agreement as she opened the locker and pulled out the gear. "Do I need to wait until the clock chimes?" she asked with a small smirk.

He gave her a dry look. "We'll be back before then, Cinderella."

The smirk widened the slightest bit as she nodded and then moved to get geared up, the inducer once again showing a dark-haired woman with angular features by the time she was ready.

While it was obvious both she and the other members of the team were curious about each other's inclusion, they didn't speak to each other as Natasha found a spot on the transport and sat straight-backed with her hands in her lap where Fury could see them. If he was as paranoid as she thought he was, she thought it would be easier if she showed with her body language she wasn't planning on going anywhere — and that she wasn't sporting any extra knives in her hands.

On landing, Fury and Natasha snuck up to a rooftop to watch for trouble — night vision, thermal binoculars … full contact with the two men running the mission on the ground, which apparently was a fairly complex bugging job on some politician. Halfway through their 'guardian angel' mission, as Fury was calling it, he handed her the binoculars. "You see anything fishy outside of our men?" he asked.

She took the binoculars quietly and scanned the house and the grounds, frowning a bit to herself at the size and scope of the place. There were the usual, to-be-expected side passages that made it easier to get around such a big space, but… "The private hangar. The thermal signature there is cooler than it should be just below the surface. Probably an opening or trap door, possibly a second hangar or other open space — hard to tell from here."

"This … person has been trying to woo _my_ victors, and I can't find the motivation," Fury said as as a means of background information — probably to help her know what else to look for. "She has no official contacts with any side in this game. None that I can find yet."

"Well, if they were Red Room, there would be more of an indication," she told him.

"She's not," he said, shaking his head lightly. "Until very recently, she just seemed a bit ... _off_ to anyone that had any contact with her. So. this is our assignment. Figure out what the story is with this woman. I'm going to have Coulson set you up with the means to sift through the intel. Connect the dots."

She smirked the slightest bit. "How detailed a report do you want? I can tell you what she prefers in her coffee if you give me enough to work with."

"I want everything. She already did something to one of my people. I want to know everything she's hiding."

"Got it," she said with a nod. She handed him back the binoculars and pursed her lips for a moment. "Is there a time limit?" she asked at last. "I'd prefer to bring you solid evidence; I don't like dealing in suspicions."

"I'd like to know by the end of the Games," he said.

"I'll get it to you as soon as you're done with all that entails, then," she agreed. "I'm sure that's a busy time for you."

* * *

 _May 18_

 _District Seven_

* * *

Springtime was in full swing in District Seven, the warmth finally chasing away the winter blues as the weather had taken an upturn recently. Which meant, for a particular victor in Seven, a little more time spent outside in the garden he had been carefully cultivating for years since his win — to give him something to do that was the opposite of the destruction the Games brought with it.

It also meant that Groot saw the kids that seemed to hang around Logan's house more often, as the weather wasn't keeping them inside, and he made it a point to let them know they were welcome while Logan was gone — and to stay outside and chase off the _other_ victor from Seven — which was how he found himself out in the garden, elbow deep in the flower bed with about five little girls, one of whom wasn't helping in the slightest but simply had her arms around his neck and had refused to be put down while he worked one-handed.

One of the girls let out a squeal, and then they scattered, and Groot looked over to see what the problem was — a garter snake had found its way into the garden.

The kids hid behind Groot, little squeals still echoing around him as the snake lazily made its way through the garden, and he gave the nearest little one a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before he bent down to pick up the snake — prompting the little girl on his shoulders to all but scream her protests in his ears until he released it again a little further out from his property.

Though it didn't escape the kids' notice that he was sure to send the snake along toward Creed's house.

"Creepy crawlies go to the big creep's house," one of them said through her giggles, and Groot grinned at her and ruffled her hair.

Though there was one little boy who looked a bit distressed as he watched the snake slither away. "That meanie might hurt Mr. Snake," he said in a tone that clearly gave away his worry.

"He's got to catch him first," pointed out one of the older kids.

"And besides," said another. "He's not _home_ right now."

Groot chuckled quietly as the kids, now no longer frightened of the snake, started to talk about just what it would be getting up to while at Creed's place — and his favorite was when one of the youngest kids said, "And I hope it lays eggs in his house and he comes home to _lots and lots_ of snakes _everywhere_."

"Well, that depends if it's a girl or a boy snake," pointed out one of the older kids, reasonably. She was part of the group of girls that had fallen in love with Rocket and was spoiling the little raccoon absolutely rotten. And since Rocket was getting older and slower lately, he was clearly soaking up all the attention and the snacks that the girls gave him.

"You girls are going to make that raccoon fat," Scott pointed out, though he didn't seem to be doing much to stop it — bringing out more snacks from inside for the girls.

"But he _likes_ it," Elsie replied as she scratched Rocket's tummy. "He purrs too."

Scott shook his head at her and set down the tray of snacks before he scratched Rocket behind the ears too. "Yeah, I've heard."

"Oooh, you missed the snake!" the little girl still hanging onto Groot's shoulders called out to Scott.

Groot gave Scott a brief smile as the little girl started to tell him the story in a very animated way, complete with sound effects on what she imagined the snake was doing on its way to Creed's house.

" _I_ said it's gonna lay eggs, but if it's a boy, I guess he can just poop all over his house too," said the little boy who started the whole mess.

Scott just grinned at the kid for a second before he looked to the rest of the group. "Heather's just about got the picnic ready, so you need to wash up before you can help her take the food outside," he said, which then meant there was a small mob of kids that needed help reaching the sink. Not to mention the girls who wanted to help Rocket wash up too.

"You're coming too, right?" Scott said Groot's way as he helped the boy with the imagination about snake poop to wash his hands.

The tall victor looked surprised for a moment but then very quietly began to smile and nodded his head in agreement.

"Duh — of course he is," Elsie pointed out as she pulled on Groot's hands to get him to hurry up so they could all head out to eat.

* * *

 _May 20_

 _Fitzsimmons Lab_

* * *

The surgery had taken most of the day, and when Logan _finally_ woke up, it was to be greeted by the science twins as they both were fretting and fiddling with him.

Simmons was double- and triple-checking his vitals and his arms and hands — which were wrapped and felt tight and sore.

Fitz was, well, _assisting_ would be the most flattering description that Logan could come up with as he hovered next to Simmons, looking fairly excitable over everything the two of them were doing.

"Welcome back," Simmons said brightly when she realized that Logan was awake. "You did _very well_ today. We had no complications — and everything is looking amazing, just like we knew it would."

"That's good," Logan muttered, getting a broader smile from the pair of scientists. "I think."

"We gave you another cocktail of drugs — but this one shouldn't make you feel ill, like the last one did," Simmons promised with what she thought was a reassuring pat, but Logan was still just _tired._

"Do I need to stay here, or can I go to my room and crash?" he asked, but both of them simply laughed as if it was a fine joke.

"No, no you can't go back until we make sure you're healed up right and everything is aligned properly," Fitz said, though he was nervously smiling.

"He can't wait for you to see it," Simmons said as she leaned toward Logan with a smile. "He's been working on this for _months._ Ever since your Games."

Logan seemed to wake up a bit at that and looked between the two of them as he tried to get a bit upright. "What …"

"I was inspired," Fitz said, clearly proud of himself as he finally started to tell him about it. "Out of everything in those Games ... that … you were just so _resourceful_."

Logan blinked a few times as he really studied the two of them, completely at a loss as to what they were talking about. "I really wasn't," he argued.

"You were though — and it got me to thinking — how we could arm you … if you were to win, of course …"

"Of course," Simmons said, with a bit of a scandalized look Fitz's way. "It was a bit hard to engineer, but Fitz—"

"I found a new alloy — it's insanely expensive and incredibly hard to create properly without inadvertently making it radioactive—"

"But we did. And it's an amazing metal—"

"—All but indestructible!" Fitz said, with a broad smile. "But the real ingenious part was the biometric system that makes it _work._ "

Simmons waved him off with a bit of a blush to her cheeks, and Logan got an incredible sinking feeling that he really didn't want to know what the hell had happened while he was under. "Let me show you," Simmons said to Logan with a kind look as she bit her lip and glanced Fitz's way.

She picked up Logan's hand nearest her and began to unwrap the bandages. He had to squint when he saw the back of his very bruised hand. "What the hell…"

"There are ports," Simmons explained. "To keep you from cutting yourself whenever you use them, though we were careful to make sure they are all but invisible."

Logan tipped his head to the side as she started to explain what they'd done. "You need to make sure your wrist is perfectly flat to your forearm," she said as she manipulated his arm. "Then you make a fist …" She looked at him expectantly, and he blinked before he did as she asked.

"A bit tighter," she directed, and after he frowned, he followed her instructions and just... stared for a moment when the foot-long, shining, metal claws sprang out of the ports on the back of his hand. Both of the scientists began to celebrate, rapidly explaining in very technical terms what was going on as Logan's hearing fuzzed out and he tried to understand _why_ they would do that to him.

It took Fitz two tries before Logan realized that the young man was explaining how to retract the claws. He shook his head and more or less repeated the motion, though after the claws disappeared _into his arms,_ his hands were shaking, and he was feeling a bit … out of place. Like he should not have been there at all.

And although he wasn't quite able to pay attention — or catch all of what was being said as the two scientists excitedly celebrated, he did hear something about how they'd 'repurposed' small sections of muscle so he could operate the mechanisms. "Oh, but don't worry," Fitz said. "They won't be detectable at all. That is, no one will be able to see—"

"Your arms won't look any different," Simmons cut in with a grin as she tried to be reassuring, though she sounded borderline nervous and couldn't seem to stop talking.

Logan just stared at her as she kept digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole, talking about how his outward appearance wouldn't suffer … and Fitz seemed to be giving her the same exact look all the way up until it dawned on her that she _might_ have gotten caught up on the wrong train of thought.

"You… you shouldn't be able to stab anyone on accident," Fitz offered.

"That would be _highly_ unlikely," Simmons agreed as both of them studied Logan's reaction.

"They're perfectly safe," Fitz said.

"You'd have to make the conscious choice to use them," Simmons added.

"But this way, you'll never be unarmed," Fitz supplied helpfully.

"And no one will be able to take them from you," Simmons agreed, glancing between Fitz and Logan and half holding her breath as it was clear both of the scientists weren't sure what to do with Logan's less-than-enthusiastic response.

"Okay," he said very slowly, trying to keep the panic in check. "Is that all you did, then?"

"Yeah, just… just the claws," Fitz said, his enthusiasm much more tempered now.

"You don't like them," Simmons said, sounding supremely disappointed.

"It's fine," Logan said, shaking his head a little, fully aware that these two simply couldn't have known that this was unwanted beforehand. "I just wasn't expecting anything … like that."

"I mean…" Fitz looked to Simmons. "I know we weren't allowed to share specifics, but…"

"...how much did you know?" Simmons finished for him, still trying to look hopeful. "That is — what _were_ you expecting?"

"More or less what you'd told me," he said. "And that Fury told me to come down and cooperate."

The two scientists glanced at each other, and Simmons said something under her breath about medical ethics, but it was lost under Fitz's spluttering. "Well … we need to watch you for a bit to make sure you're okay… well… physically speaking…" Simmons looked honestly distressed on his behalf.

It took Logan all of a couple seconds before he made his first real effort to shove it down. "I'll be _fine_ ," he repeated, a bit more firmly than before, though he glanced at the silenced monitor before he reached up and yanked loose the leads on his chest. He could keep it together if he didn't have to look at the damn screen giving away the fact that he was panicking.

The two of them shared another look before they quickly left to go put their heads together, their muttering at a fast pace in clearly a more … down tone than before. They both glanced over at Logan before they hurried off to find Coulson in his office — though by the time they arrived, Simmons looked less shocked than she looked mad.

"Do you have any idea how many medical ethics I just violated without even _knowing_?" Simmons demanded of him as soon as the door was closed behind them. "Why didn't he know _anything_?"

"What are you talking about?" Coulson asked.

"Our new Wolverine is just… sitting out there in my lab, and he didn't know a _thing_ about what we were doing," Simmons said, her eyes narrowed.

"Other than what we told him," Fitz clarified.

"Which wasn't much, because we weren't _authorized_ ," Simmons said, still upset.

"No idea what he was volunteering for," Fitz said.

"If he volunteered at all," Simmons added, fuming.

"What do you mean he didn't know?" Coulson asked with a deepening frown. "Are you sure?"

"You can go see for yourself, but he's a little...shocked right now," Fitz offered with a slight frown.

"I thought he would have been informed… if I'd known I was working on him without his knowing consent to at least the _idea_ …." Simmons looked visibly shaken. "This is not the kind of thing I signed up for!"

"I'll go talk to him," Coulson offered, though it was clear he had no idea what the heck he could say.

But he also knew that his team was going to have fits if he didn't do something, so he headed down to the lab all the same to find Logan just as the scientists had described… sitting quietly, though all wires and monitors were on the floor after he'd taken them off.

"How are you doing?" he asked as he settled into a seat close by with a small frown.

Logan glanced up at him with a very flat expression on his face. "I don't know. I think they headed out to run some tests or something."

"Actually, they came to talk with me," Coulson said. "Simmons was upset; she seems to think you weren't told and didn't consent to the experiment."

"I didn't," he replied simply. "And if I'd had a choice — I wouldn't have."

Coulson frowned at that and shook his head. "I know apologies aren't going to help at this point, but I am sorry to hear it."

"It's fine," Logan muttered, straightening up. "I know what's expected of me now."

"You should know — if we'd known you hadn't consented, no one on my team would have gone forward with this," Coulson told him honestly. "There was some misunderstanding, and it _will_ be rectified."

"No misunderstanding," Logan said, shaking his head. "Your team didn't know. Only one that did was Fury. Nothing to misinterpret there."

Coulson sighed and leaned forward the slightest bit, his hands clasped in front of him. "I suppose now isn't the time to tell you it's a permanent process," he said.

"I kinda figured as much, just didn't want to ask."

"I won't let them do it to anyone else until I can be sure this won't happen again," Coulson added, looking entirely serious.

"It will, if he's happy with it." Logan closed his eyes tightly for a moment. "Doesn't matter now anyway."

"It _does_ matter," Coulson told him. "And it _won't_ happen again. I'll speak with the director and the assistant director myself, and Fitzsimmons won't want to do anything like this again."

Logan frowned deeper. "How long will it take to heal up? I know there are some missions coming soon."

Coulson looked surprised at the change in subject but nodded. "Yes, there are, and Simmons said you should be on your feet in a matter of days at the most — but are you sure you want to jump back in that quickly?"

"It's what I'm here for, isn't it?" Logan replied.

"That's not what I asked, Logan," Coulson said with a frown.

Logan smirked at him and gestured toward his hands. "Do you think that really matters? Really?"

"I wouldn't back this organization if I didn't believe in it," Coulson said. "And the SHIELD I signed up for doesn't operate the way the Capitol does," he added with a bit of a frown.

"The SHIELD you're _in_ protects the Capitol and its interests," Logan said. "I had hoped that it would be different, but I was warned. You just … manage your assets differently."

"You were warned by whom?" Coulson asked gently.

"Pretty much everyone I ran into in the Capitol — starting with your girl Jess."

"And she told you that, what, SHIELD was like the Capitol? I can't believe that."

"No, I figured that part out on my own," Logan said.

Coulson scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's really not. Clearly, there have been mistakes, but I swear to you, Logan, I _will_ talk to Fury. This organization is _supposed_ to be about a better choice for the future. I've already had to speak with him about _my_ operatives, but this…" He shook his head, clearly frustrated.

"This is how he treats his 'pet project'. Doubt you got the pull to do anything," Logan replied. "It's. Fine."

"It's not," Coulson countered with a heavy sigh. He leaned forward and met Logan's gaze. "I'm sorry I couldn't step in — that I didn't know I needed to — but I promise I'll do everything in my power to make sure nothing like this happens again. To you or anyone else."

Logan narrowed his eyes and leaned forward himself. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Coulson frowned at him for a moment longer before he stood to leave. "I'll see you later," he said as he headed for the door, already planning what he'd say to Fury. They'd _just_ been through this with Tahiti — the argument that these kids needed a say in their lives — and this? This was the same story.

When he did arrive at Fury's office, though, Fury wasn't the only one there. Bobbi was finishing up a report on what she'd been able to learn from her time learning poisons under Viper's tutelage — she was gaining more and more trust among that particular group of victors, and her intelligence was more than helpful. But when Coulson saw her, he had to frown. She looked just as gray as Logan had when he was on Simmons' drug cocktails.

"What's wrong?" he asked her outright, half afraid of the answer.

"I don't have much of an immunity to start with," Bobbi said, waving him off. "I'll get used to it."

"Is this something you picked to do on your own, or were you ordered into it?" Coulson asked, already set to fight.

"No, it just came up when Viper and I were talking," Bobbi said with a light shrug, though she was watching him with her head tipped to one side. "She wanted to teach someone her tricks, thought it might as well be me so we can learn from them."

"Well, if it won't destroy what you've done already, you should go down by Fitzsimmons and get some IV saline. You look like hell," Coulson said. "And while you're down there, maybe you can get a better handle on how your fellow victor is _actually_ doing, since he's … seemed to go right into denial." He turned toward Fury without even taking the time to draw in a full breath before he all but bellowed at him. "Why the hell didn't you tell him anything?!"

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Fury said dismissively.

"He would have said _no_ ," Coulson shouted. "And you knew that!"

"I saw the specs Fitz drew up — are you telling me you didn't want to use them?" Fury shot back. "To have an operative who is _never_ unarmed?"

"I'd want to use it on an operative that _knew_ what was coming — not just … blindside them like that," Coulson countered. "He's in shock. I wasn't aware that was even possible!"

"If he is, that's the first thing to do it since the Games," Fury said, one eyebrow raised as it was clear he didn't quite believe Coulson.

"Is that what the problem is? You don't think he got broken down enough, so you'll throw this at him and see what happens?"

Fury's eyes flashed for a moment as he frowned Coulson's way. "He can take it — and he's the reason for the designs in the first place."

"Something I should know?" Bobbi asked, paused halfway from her seat to the doorway

"The director here ordered Logan to get some experimental implants," Coulson said. "Claws. Without telling him a thing until _after_ the _permanent_ surgery was over."

Bobbi turned to face the director with a frown that looked even deeper set on her pale face than usual. "You gave him _claws_?" she asked slowly. " _Why_?"

"It seemed fitting," Fury replied. "And I needed to be sure that at least one of my operatives wasn't able be disarmed. Considering the specs, it seemed most fitting."

"And it didn't occur to you that maybe the weapons he killed his best friend with _weren't_ at the top of his list for _permanent_ weaponry choices?"

"The ones he made were crude — but I've never seen anyone take to something like that so easily. He'll appreciate it once he gets used to the idea," Fury said with a little wave.

Bobbi looked furious for a moment, shifting her gaze between Fury and Coulson, before she spun on her heel. "You said Fitz made the plans?" she asked Coulson over her shoulder, only waiting long enough for his nod before she stalked off to go down to Fitzsimmons' labs — and not only check on Logan but make sure Fitz destroyed the research, muttering "claws" under her breath like a swear word the entire way.

But when she got down to the labs, she almost had to smile, because the duo that was Fitzsimmons were already busily destroying everything.

 _Everything_.

The hard drive was on fire, and Simmons had a fire extinguisher and goggles in hand as she watched it warily, and Fitz had been so eagerly dumping documentation into the shredder that it had jammed, and he was clearing it away so he could keep going. Both of them looked up when Bobbi entered and started to nod in unison.

"Oh, don't mind us," Simmons said, with the slightest of hard edges to her normally chipper tone.

"Just a little spring cleaning," Fitz added. "Nothing top secret here, no!" To emphasize his point, he got the stack of papers dislodged and started shredding again.

"You get everything?" Bobbi asked, not about to stop them at all.

"Everything but what's inside him," Simmons said with a bit of a frown.

"Then that's about all you can do," Bobbi replied. "How is he — have you tried to talk to him?"

"Ah… we tried right after we — you know — after we were done," Fitz admitted.

"But… we're sure he'll talk to Skye when she gets back," Simmons offered.

"Yeah," Fitz said, nodding. "She… should be back soon. Any second. Really."

* * *

 _May 20_

 _Vehicle Impound, Triskellion_

* * *

For the past few days, Skye had been more or less MIA when she didn't have somewhere she _had_ to be. She hadn't told anyone where she was going, either — just slipped down to impound where they still had her van and found a blanket and some coffee. The van was getting pretty full of used coffee cups now, but that sort of made it feel more familiar anyway. When SHIELD took it, they'd cleaned it out — this was much more like, well, home.

She was a little taken by surprise when someone knocked on the door of the van with a gentle rhythm. "Am I disturbing you?"

It wasn't Coulson or anyone from her team, which surprised her, so she hurriedly shoved some of the used dishes under the seats and opened the door to find Charles Xavier outside.

She blinked at him in surprise . "I'd… um. I'd invite you in, but I don't… I don't have a ramp," she stammered out, a bit embarrassed.

"I'd hate to invade your space," he replied. "But I did want to make sure that you were alright. I've noticed … you seem a bit out of sorts as of late."

"I'm fine," she assured him quickly. "I just… you know. With the Games and everything."

"I've found over the years that 'I'm fine' is almost always shorthand for 'I am most definitely not fine' with everyone I've ever met," Charles replied.

"Well, then, I guess I'm not fine," Skye said with a shrug as she sat down in the open door of her van to be at a better eye level with him. "But if that's par for the course for you and everyone else, maybe 'as expected' is better? I don't know. How do these things usually go? I came late to the game — or, well, Games — last year."

"They're hard on everyone," Charles admitted. "But it does help to avoid isolation. I find, for example, that tea times with different people help to keep my perspective a bit broader."

"Well, I'm not much for tea," she said with a small smile. "But I like my van, thanks. It's like going home for a little bit, so ... think of it like a vacation. Or something."

"I can appreciate that," Charles said, nodding along. "It has to be that much harder when you know as much as you do — as close as you are to so much."

She nodded quietly for a moment before she started to chew on her bottom lip, clearly trying to figure out how to word her next question. "I mean… knowing what I do… knowing _who_ I know… how the heck am I supposed to… well. Do what I do? I mean, I like … _them_. But I don't want to pick anyone else to go through that." She was clearly having a hard time navigating around what she wasn't allowed to say and let out a breath.

Charles frowned a bit at that. "How much do you have to 'pick'?"

"Oh, all twelve districts," she said with a heavy sigh. "I mean, obviously the list is finalized _above my head_ and _despite my protests_ ," she added with a glare.

"And how does one even attempt that monumental task without support?"

"Well, the heavy lifting is all in the algorithms," she admitted. "But even just narrowing it down to two kids per district from six or seven... " She ran her hands through her hair. "And then _knowing_ some of them... meeting them in person..."

"How …" He paused and took a breath before he continued, "How did you manage to meet them?"

"It was an accident," she assured him quickly — she didn't want to get in trouble. "I was just … I was assigned to one of the districts to do some training, and… well, there were a bunch of kids there. I didn't _ask_ to meet anyone on the list. It just sort of … happened."

"I don't understand how _that_ came to pass," Charles said. "But perhaps if you told me more about that — I might be able to help."

"It… okay. So I can't tell you where. Or who. But let's just say somewhere there is a district with an adorable flock of orphans," Skye said in a whisper. "And _maybe_ while I was helping someone out with some technical knowledge, said flock came for dinner. Multiple times. And maybe one of them is…." She paused. "He's gonna die, Charles. And I sat right across from him, and he's going to die and I put him there," she whispered out, her gaze on her hands as the confession came out in a rush.

"You don't know that he's going to die," Charles said. "He could win. It does happen."

"I've seen his file," she said. "I _wrote_ half his file. Heck, I wrote most of the files in there!" She looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"And yet, he could still step outside of your algorithm," Charles said. "You have little say in what happens once they're inside that arena."

"Yeah, but if he wins, what about the rest of the ones I sent out, huh?" she countered. "The cute kids and the smart ones and, God, even the horrible ones... "

"You know what we're doing," Charles said gently.

"Doesn't that make it even worse, though?" Skye asked.

"In some ways, yes, it does," Charles replied. "But in others — it frees them."

"Even if they're… _in the program now_ …" She frowned, trying to word it properly. "The kids in the Games still _die_. That's twenty-three murders on me. Hand-picked victims. Even the winner doesn't really win, and don't tell me that's not true, because I have done some _digging_ , Mr. Xavier, and I _know things_."

Charles watched her for a moment, his trademark calm smile gone as he nodded. "As you said: the decision is not yours. Even though you advocate for other options, it is not your choice, ultimately. And though you feel the burden of that decision — the guilt is not yours either."

"You know it was my algorithm that put Cletus Kasady as your tribute last year, right?" she asked suddenly. "I mean, even before I was hand-picking… what he did to Pepper or Ororo or anyone else…"

"No," Charles breathed out. "I didn't know that. But Cletus' actions … they're not on your head."

"They weren't even _considering_ him until I got there," she blurted out. "Him or… or Elektra… and then this year… _this year,_ I've seen every single name. _Every_ name." She looked openly stricken as she looked at Charles. "What am I going to tell them when they get to the program? 'Sorry I signed your death warrant'?"

"You did no such thing. You were dealing in … numbers and vague possibilities. It's the men above you that have to answer for their deaths."

"I know their names. I read the files, I made recommendations. You can't tell me I didn't know they were people. Kids. God, some of them haven't even turned _thirteen_ yet."

"Skye," Charles said urgently. "Please, let's go inside to discuss this."

She glanced over both shoulders as if she'd only just noticed that they were in a slightly more public setting than was appropriate before she took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, right. Sorry. Where… did you have in mind?" she asked as she pulled the door to her van shut.

"My office, or perhaps Agent Coulson's would be secure enough. Either of them."

She nodded. "Alright, let's kick Coulson out. Not like he's using it right now with all the Games prep," she said with the slightest of smirks.

The two of them made their way through the security checkpoints and down the halls in companionable silence, more or less. They were nearly to Coulson's office — the door in sight — when they were interrupted by a very pale Bobbi as she called out for them.

"Hey, Skye — can I steal you for a minute?" she asked, then paused. "And Charles, you should probably come too."

"That never means anything good," Charles said to Skye under his breath.

"It's Logan," Bobbi told him frankly, which got both Charles and Skye to frown a bit harder as they followed her.

"What did he _do_?" Charles asked, before she could explain at _all_.

"It wasn't anything _he_ did — this time," Bobbi assured him.

"That's a pleasant break, at least," Charles replied.

"Yeah, well, maybe you won't think so when you see the experiment Fury ordered to be run on him without his consent," Bobbi said, an edge to her tone as they got to Fitzsimmons' lab, where the two scientists were still in a frenzy of motion destroying all records of what they'd done.

"What kind of experiment?" Charles asked, frowning as he watched the two scientists burning what had to be months and months of work.

"They gave him claws," Bobbi told him at just over a whisper, and Skye raised both eyebrows and dropped her chin nearly to her chest. "Underneath the skin in his arms — retractable, metal, _permanent_ claws," Bobbi added, her eyes flashing.

"How …" Charles looked to be at a loss for words.

By that time, Fitzsimmons had caught up to the rest of the group, and both of them looked somewhere between apologetic and livid.

"We had no idea," Simmons said, seeming to direct her comments as much to Charles as to Skye.

Fitz nodded. "You have to believe we wouldn't do this if we didn't think—"

"Violated a hundred different medical ethics—" Simmons added.

"And he didn't even know—"

"—no idea whatsoever what we were doing—"

"—told him it was to keep him armed and he just looked…"

"—not sure if it's better or worse that he doesn't blame us—"

"—worse than when he was on the drugs…"

The two of them kept up in their fragmented speech before Bobbi cut them both a look, and they quieted down. "Coulson's team had no idea he wasn't a willing test subject," she summed up for Charles. "But regardless, now he has permanent claws, and we have a lot of work to do destroying the research to keep it from happening again."

Charles looked to both of the panicking scientists before he spoke very slowly, with his calmest tones: "This was not your doing."

"It was _my_ design," Fitz pointed out.

"I administered the experiment," Simmons added.

"We didn't know—"

"But we did it anyway," she finished.

"It can't be changed now," Charles said. "So we'll just have to try to make this better somehow. By all means — keep doing what you're doing before Fury suspects and sends in his men."

"Ooh, right," Simmons said, nodding quickly as her eyes widened at the idea of having to deal with any of Fury's operatives, and both of them scurried off to go finish destroying any evidence of the experiment, leaving the other three behind.

"Is… he okay?" Skye asked at last, her eyes wide.

"What do you think? _No_ ," Bobbi told her frankly. "He's fine physically, but ... well. Someone just put six knives in him for the rest of his life. How would you feel?"

Skye winced one eye shut at that. "Where is he?" she asked, and Bobbi motioned her toward the bio-medical area of the lab where Logan still was.

She wasn't surprised to see him just sitting there, so she dropped into the nearest seat and quickly lead with, "You know Fitzsimmons wouldn't have done a _thing_ if they thought you were against it," because she thought she should probably defend her friends first.

"When are they gonna get out here and clear me so I can leave?" Logan asked, totally blowing over everything she'd just said.

She blinked at him for a moment and shook her head. "I don't know. I'm not — I don't speak biochemistry."

"Well at least I'm not the only one that doesn't catch half of what they say," he muttered.

She shot him a little smirk. "Yeah, well, right now they're setting a hard drive on fire. Again, apparently. That part I do understand."

"Everyone needs a hobby."

She looked around the room for a moment. "So, are you still on Simmons' drugs, or can we pull a runner and get some coffee — or something stronger, up to you."

"Seeing as she won't look me in the eye, let alone talk to me? I'm …" He let out a half-hearted little chuckle. "As usual, the last to know."

"Well, I can find out," she said. "And I know where Coulson keeps the keys to the liquor cabinet."

"You can do that if you want," he said as he looked toward where the scuffle was going on. "But I think she's not gonna feel any better unless she has another reason to stick me with a needle." At that, he peeled back the tape on his IV and pulled it out. "I'm goin' for a walk."

"Okay — where are we going?" she asked.

"Doesn't really matter," he muttered, though he took a moment to pull on a pair of jeans and switch out the hospital threads for a flannel shirt.

"Okay, well… oh, I could show you where they stole my van," she offered. "It was sort of where I lived before SHIELD picked me up. It's small, and a mess, but ... it's not SHIELD."

"Sure," he said with a little nod. "Anything without a logo'd be perfect."

"Yeah, why do you think I was hiding out there in the first place?" she asked with a little smirk. "The wings are getting on my nerves lately."

"Lead the way," he said, gesturing for her to go ahead. "You can tell me about ... anything else in the world than the crap I've been listening to."

She nodded and led the way out of the lab, trying to think of a good story before she settled on the story of how she got herself involved in some tech terrorism in the first place — and how her van had sort of became her mobile command center.

While she talked about herself and her crazy quest and her 'command center', he just sat back and listened, staring at his hands and half wondering if he should show Fury the claws the hard way the next time he saw him.

* * *

May was not amused with this particular assignment.

She made her way down to the impound with a bit of a glare at anyone she passed before she found the van and pulled the door open, planning to have a _long_ talk with Skye if there was anything like alcohol or funny business happening, but to her relief — it looked like they both just had their feet on the dash, coffee in hand, just chatting together.

"No SHIELD agents allowed," Logan said after he glanced her way.

"Funny, since Skye is one," May pointed out with the slightest of smirks. "Try again."

"She's really not …. But if you wanna get twitchy about it, fine. No _old_ SHIELD agents allowed."

"Well now you're just being hurtful," she said, one hand on her hip. "It's time to get back to work — you can't stay here," she said, directing the comment at both of them.

"You heard about what happened after I covered for you on that prank, right?" Logan asked. "Pretty sure I get the free pass on this one."

May raised an eyebrow his way. "I saw the video," she said with a smirk. "But you still can't stay here."

"Don't lie; you had her save the video," Logan said. "Probably watch it every time you have to deal with Fury's resting bitch face."

"I did, too," Skye broke in with a little laugh. "It was beautiful, and I loved it."

"So what's the rush? Simmons need some more blood already?" Logan asked, turning his full attention to May.

"Skye has a new project to work on, and yes, Simmons did mention she wanted to make sure you didn't pass out in the middle of who-knows-where," May said.

"Afraid someone might drag me off?" Logan asked with a hollow chuckle. "Because I'm fine with passing out in who-knows-where."

"You know there are people all over who'd love to drag you off. And besides," May said with a sigh, "Simmons really does want to make sure she doesn't accidentally kill you."

Logan gave her a dry look. "At this point, if there's a problem, it's a done deal anyhow, right?"

"Just come up and let her poke you for five minutes so she doesn't hyperventilate," May said, sounding a bit weary.

"Pretty sure I'm done letting people poke at me, unless you want to bribe me. Have a drink with me — or … at least have a drink with _them_. They probably need it, considering the day they're having."

"Fitz can't hold his liquor," May said with a little smirk.

"Even better," Logan replied with a smirk to match.

"I'll water it down, then. But you're coming up."

"You damn well better not water anything down."

"You want me to kill those two?" she asked with a smirk. "Because I told you — they can't handle it."

"One drink won't kill either of them — but it might loosen 'em up enough for something interesting to happen," Logan pointed out.

May let out a breath of a laugh and nodded. "Want to stay and watch the show?" she offered. "I have better drinks than Coulson does."

"Are you kidding me? They were half terrified of me before they unknowingly mutilated me," Logan replied. "I have to leave."

"And go where?" May asked with a small frown.

"Anywhere. Got work to do," Logan said. "Maybe. Doesn't really matter."

She tipped her head at him for a second before she shook her head. "You owe me a drink when you get back from your next job, then," she told him.

"Why not before?" he asked. "Won't be the first time I go out with a shot or two in me."

"Because the drugs still haven't worn off, and Simmons is beside herself thinking you've already done just that. Don't kill my scientist," May said, shaking her head at him.

"If I didn't kill them already, why the hell would I do it now?" He had turned her way and was just waiting for Skye to leave first.

"Just come back to the lab with me," May sighed, shaking her head. "I promise I'll make this painless. I'd even let your coffee buddy come with you, but she has a meeting with Coulson and one of our medical doctors."

"Fine," he said as the two of them climbed out of the van. "Let's get some science babies wasted." He looked toward Skye for a minute. "Thanks for the breather."

"Any time. You know where to find me," she said with a wave.


	61. You've Got People Pulling For You

**Notes: Just so you all know, this is the second to last chapter of "There Will Be No Kneeling." Our last update will be later on in the week, and we'll post the first chapter of Volume 2, wherein we introduce our version of the Quarter Quell, at the same time we post the last chapter, so that you know where to look for it and you won't have to wait too long between volumes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 61: "You've Got People Pulling For You"**

* * *

 _May 26_

 _District Eight - Norman Osborns' Offices_

* * *

Fury had called Logan in ahead of the team — just to make sure they were on the same page after the ' _misunderstanding'_ about the claws. He was a bit disappointed, though, when Logan didn't say more than two words, refused to cooperate with him, and flat-out ignored any orders to let Fury see how well the procedure had worked with a demonstration.

With a grumble, Fury handed Logan some bracers to slip over his forearms that would serve as the cover for his team. It was a simple misdirect. Should Logan use the claws, it would appear to those working with him as if it was an external weapon. Logan looked somehow more irritated at that but slipped them on anyhow before he dropped heavily into a nearby chair.

Fury tried to push him a bit further on the matter but was interrupted when Coulson brought in his partner for the backup team. Again, Logan barely glanced up at her before going back to doing his level best to ignore Fury.

The new woman in question looked to be about a decade older than Logan, with dark hair and angular features, though it was likely a good thing he wasn't paying her much attention, since, although she covered for it nicely, it was clear she was surprised to see him. Natasha was wearing her inducer again, so Logan didn't recognize her, but she definitely recognized the young man she'd tried to kill a year ago.

She was very glad for the inducer — because it meant he didn't know who _she_ was, and she wouldn't have blamed him for carrying a grudge, even if she had screwed up their fight in the Games by monumentally underestimating the young man.

"The rest of the team will be here shortly," Fury told both of them as he gestured for her to take a seat. "In the meantime, read over your files." He crossed the room to hand them both their files, and Logan didn't look her way before opening his and starting to go through it.

Natasha sat down gracefully to read through the briefing material — they were headed to Norman Osborn's house in Eight after a previous team had failed to bug the place. It was booby-trapped, and the original team had tripped an electric floor. But they had better intel now, and it _was_ going to get bugged, whether Osborn liked it or not.

"Miss Rushman and I will be your backup," Fury said to Logan before the others came in.

At that, Logan looked up at her and tipped his head her way. "I'll try to keep your night boring."

"I'm sure Fury would prefer it that way," she said carefully, her voice lightly accented to hide her identity. "But I wouldn't be opposed to some fun either," she couldn't help but add, just because 'boring' was not on her list of descriptors she wanted from her afternoon when Fury was finally giving her something to _do_.

"Either way, you'll be covered," Fury said. "Both of us will be on the mission."

Not two beats passed before the other members of the team entered and took their seats. Maverick sat on one side of Logan and Creed on the other with a smirk that had no place even being on his face.

"There some kind of requirement that we gotta have a girl on the team now?" Creed asked.

"Had to have someone to pick up your slack," Natasha shot back without pausing — and without bothering to look up at him.

"And you scream like one, so there's that," Logan added, going back over his file. Creed shot a glare his way but went to looking over the intel.

"So you let someone else screw up this run so his security's ramped up _higher_ — and just _now_ you want us to fix it?" Wraith asked when he saw the intel on the previous run on Osborn's place. "Why the hell didn't you just have us do it to begin with?"

All of the members of the team looked up at the director expectantly at that comment, and Fury frowned his way. "Case of bad intel," he admitted. "Someone leaked that the team was coming."

"So is this better, or should we be looking at better weaponry this time around? Maybe a tech expert?" Maverick offered. "I mean, our guy's alright, but if it's too far out there …"

"I can get in," Natasha said with a shrug. "Not a problem."

"Getting in isn't the trouble," Fury said her way. "You'll be handling the systems remotely while I play the eyes in the sky. Everyone else? Your usual assignments."

Creed immediately started to complain. "Why don't you let someone with a little more experience run this thing, Fury? The runt's been off 'a missions for better than a week now. Come on."

"If you could think further out than 'kill everyone,' then we could consider letting you lead, but you've made it crystal clear: like it or not, you're no leader," Fury shot back. "Now gear up — all of you. New armor is waiting for you in the lockers."

The four men all closed their files and stood up, filing out of the hidden door in the back of Fury's office, leaving Fury with Natasha for a moment. "Any questions, Miss Rushman?"

"Just one — how do you keep those two from killing each other?" she asked with a single raised eyebrow.

"We have an agreement," Fury replied.

"You'd have to," she agreed, shaking her head.

He tipped his head toward where he kept her gear. "Suit up. Wheels off the ground in ten."

She nodded, though she was still thinking it over in her head, unable to help her curiosity. She was, however, smart enough not to put more of a voice to it as she geared up and headed to where she was supposed to be.

On the plane, it only got more surreal to watch as Logan and Creed seemed almost well-paired as they double-checked their gear, already falling into silent communication alongside Maverick and Kestrel. The group waited until they were in the drop zone before they pulled their masks down, and the team made their exit, leaving Fury and Natasha to get to their rooftop vantage point.

Before they'd gotten the computer fully operational, the chatter started over the radio.

" _Through the first two checkpoints,"_ Logan said over the comms. " _No resistance, just a little heavier on the guards than intel let on._ "

Natasha smirked the slightest bit at the quick entry and hurried to catch up with them, putting the training from both the Red Room and now Tahiti to good use as she got down to work. "Cameras are looped, and the motion tracking is disabled," she reported a few moments later.

" _Much obliged,_ " he replied as they could hear the group pick up their pace even more.

The next check-in didn't come until several minutes later, when Wraith reported from the room that housed the gadgetry development that they were finished with the relays that would send all tech specs their way. " _Got that hardware in_ ," Wraith said with a smile in his voice. " _The others are already three levels up. So you might wanna turn off whatever nasties you can that'll be waiting for them. I'll be plotting our exit strategy._ "

"Can do," Natasha said, working through what felt like an entire labyrinth of traps for this place. "Someone's paranoid," she muttered, half to herself and half to Fury, before she got most of them turned off. "Can't get the door handles on the third floor, but I'm sure you can get in another way. Everything else is clear."

The team didn't check in for a while — going radio silent for the longest time. "The less they say, the better it's going," Fury said to her as he watched through the scope of his rifle.

"That's a departure from my old partner," she said with a ghost of a smirk. "And in the Red Room, we didn't check in at all until it was done. Nice to know there's a happy medium."

"This team has required times to check in. I don't like full no-contact unless I'm not planning on getting them back," Fury said.

At that, Natasha gave him a significant look for a moment and returned to what she was doing.

It was another ten minutes before there was another check-in. " _Alright, one room is being stubborn,_ " Logan said. " _I dropped the mobile ones, and that's the end of it, unless you wanna come up here and try for yourself. Guard shift change is in two minutes._ "

"You'll want to get out of there before then. I can't loop through a shift change — that'll raise suspicions," Natasha pointed out.

" _We're on our way,_ " Logan replied. It took the team just under the two minutes to get out — at a dead run by the time they left the building — but it was done. And it was clean.

When they got to the plane, Fury was already set to question them. "How many bugs did you drop?"

"All of 'em," Maverick replied. "Like you _wanted._ "

"No alarms were tripped; we side-stepped the traps rather than disarming them," Logan added.

"They won't know anyone was there," Wraith agreed.

"So long as you made sure to cover the stench Sabretooth left," Natasha said quietly, and with a perfect smirk.

Creed turned her way with a look of pure murder as the rest of the team smirked at her with various levels of amusement.

"The uniforms are carbon-lined," Logan told her with half a smile. "Keeps dogs from following us, so … it probably works well enough in an office building for him."

"We'll just have to see then," Natasha said, the smirk widening a bit as she looked his way.

"Oooh, I like her," Wraith said with a nod. "We oughta keep this one. _Sassy._ "

"We'll have to see how it goes," Fury said, watching Natasha carefully. "Just trying it out."

"Well, just to make it clear where we stand," Wraith said as he looked to his other teammates. "Who wants to keep her?" He raised his hand, and both Maverick and Logan agreed — all of them watching Creed as a point of solidarity against him. "Three outta four — that's pretty damn good, Nick."

"I'll put it under consideration," Fury replied dryly.

Logan leaned over to Maverick with a stage whisper. "That means only if it was his idea to start with."

Natasha glanced at Fury for a moment and then leaned forward herself. "It may also be contingent on _her_ decision, but that's just a thought," she said in a stage whisper to match.

"Don't hold your breath on him taking your decision into consideration if it's about you," Logan advised.

"I could always quit and be a dancer," she said with a little grin Fury's way.

"Vic, I swear to God, if you say one word right now, I will see exactly how many teeth I can fit down your throat at once," Logan warned Creed's way when he very clearly had something obnoxious on deck.

"Oh, I don't dance for just anyone," she said with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. "What do you think — would the director of SHIELD enjoy a show?"

"Only if you had HYDRA's secret plans tattooed on your ass," Logan replied, and Maverick broke out laughing.

"Mmm. Too bad for him," she said with a dismissive wave.

"Too bad indeed," Wraith agreed with a nod. "His loss, I suppose."

"I don't know — it would do him some good. At his age, he should relax and live a little," Natasha said, still grinning wider.

"You'd likely give him a heart attack," Maverick said before he paused and tipped his head to the side, looking Fury's way. "So. What's your rate? We'll all chip in."

"I'd clean you all out — let him pay for it out of pocket," she laughed.

"I dunno," Wraith said. "Couple of victors in the crew ... one of 'em is pretty busy …"

"You kinda want a fat lip too, don'tcha?" Logan said Wraith's way, and Wraith gave him a wide smile and shook his head before Fury got them all to pipe down for the rest of the trip back.

When they returned to base, the guys headed out to their locker room, having more or less no real reason to debrief, seeing as Fury was on board for the whole thing.

Fury took Natasha back to his office ahead of the guys, though. "What did you think of the team?" he asked. "You've looked out for most of them a few times now — and I need to know if there's going to be a problem with you and Logan if we do assign you as their backup."

"You'd have to ask him if you're going to tell him who I am," she said with a shrug.

"He'll do what I tell him to," Fury replied.

"Then I don't see any problems," she said. "I'd like a rematch at some point, different stakes, but that's not going to affect anything but personal pride," she added with a bit of a smirk.

"Not so sure you'd like the outcome anyhow," Fury said.

"Oh, not right now, not when Charles still has me on limited training," she replied with a little wave.

"If and when we ever merge the two programs, I'm sure that could be arranged."

"Then that's my only stipulation," Natasha said with a little smirk.

"Good. If you're ready, Coulson can take you back to your designated area."

She nodded and stood to leave, though this time, she had to pause the slightest bit, still smirking. "Your little boys' club is fun," she said. "I'm surprised there wasn't a hand-painted 'No Girls Allowed' sign and paper hats."

"I'm sure if there had been, Creed would have put it there, and the other three would have torn it down and used it for spitballs."

"And drawn Creed underneath it for more precise targeting."

"Thank you for your assistance, Miss Rushman."

"Anytime, Director," she said as she headed out the door, following Coulson back down to Tahiti, where she would turn in her image inducer.

* * *

 _June 2_

 _District Seven_

* * *

Simmons had made Logan promise to not get wasted until he'd completely healed up, and the truth of the matter was, she'd been so sincerely concerned — he couldn't quite break down and tell her to just stick it, even if he had no plans to listen to her on it.

He thought he should have been mad at her, but … he knew it had been Fury's orders, and it was pretty obvious that Fitzsimmons were both completely mortified by what they'd had a part in doing, and he tried to steer clear of them because of it. And Charles had tried to talk to him, but Logan couldn't quite relax with the older victor trying to get him to 'open up'. Whatever that meant. But, finally, Logan had been given a bit of a reprieve when all of the victors still in the Capitol for one reason or another were sent back to their home districts to await the beginning of the next Games.

It was the first time that he was actually glad to be back in his cabin, and right after he walked through the door, he stood there for a moment to just … breathe. For several weeks — give or take — there would be no missions. No medical. No return calls to the Capitol to _entertain_ politicians and the upper crust.

He made his way upstairs and lay down, honestly surprised at how good it felt to be in his own bed for once. He let out a deep breath and stretched out — only to frown when the muscles in his forearms pulled unexpectedly, pinching in a few spots that showed how they clearly were unused to their new purpose.

"Damnit," he muttered before he looked at his hands in front of him, rubbing his wrists. Without putting too much thought into it, he got up and closed his door and the curtains on his windows before he lined up his wrists, closed his eyes, and just … _snikt!_

When he opened his eyes again, the image was no less disturbing than it had been the first few times he'd done it. He took a moment to look at the claws, twisting his wrists so he could finally start to get used to how they would alter his way of handling himself when he had them in use. But before he could put much effort into it, he … flat didn't want to look at them anymore. With little more than a thought, the claws retracted with an almost echoing _snakt!_

It was going to take a lot of getting used to. And a lot of practice in using them. He rubbed his arms absently. He didn't realize how sore it made him to use the damn things until he'd let it go for as long as he had. The newly purposed muscle sections needed to be used in order to get stronger. Which only meant he'd have to use them more often. _Privately_. Away from any prying eyes.

The thought was incredibly depressing. He was weary and worn, and when he thought about it, he just wanted to sleep.

* * *

A few hours later — after he'd managed to pass out for a while — he stretched his arms out over his head, and at the top of his stretching, the now familiar _snikt_ rang out in the air, and he froze. He hadn't _meant_ to pop the claws.

He didn't get to really figure out what had happened before the door downstairs closed heavily, and Heather called out for him to get up and help her set up for dinner. He swore under his breath and quickly straightened out his wrists to get the alignment right, then retracted them again as he called out to Heather that he'd be right down.

When he got down the stairs, she was already setting out food, though she abandoned what she was doing to turn toward him when she heard him hit the bottom of the stairs and looked _relieved_ to see him.

"You have spies in the district just to tell you when I get here?" Logan asked as he looked up at her. He was working hard to get his heart rate under control, reasonably sure that his outward facade was his usual nonchalant self.

He was at least reassured that was up to snuff when she shook her head with a little laugh and rushed over to nearly pounce on him for a hug. "You've been gone for _ages_ ," she told him.

"Not by choice," he pointed out, carefully returning the hug, and letting go almost as soon as he thought about his hands that close to anyone he cared about. "I have to go where they tell me."

"That is patently ridiculous," she said, though she did at least soften the look of near-betrayal she had been giving him to pull him by the arm toward the kitchen. "Now — help me set up. You don't have any perishables left in the fridge after you were gone so long, and the kids should be here soon enough — so I need help putting everything away before the mob descends."

"You got it, boss," he replied, trying to keep it light if he could, though it didn't feel right when he said it, either.

She gave him a sideways look for that one but shook her head. They'd almost made it to the kitchen before she turned to tell him something and froze. "You're _bleeding_!" she gasped out, rushing over to look at his hands and examine them for herself where he had, without realizing it, cut himself on the new claws.

"Didn't even feel it," he muttered quietly as Heather turned his hand over in both of hers.

"Well, you can't — you _can't_ be bleeding when the kids get here," she said, still looking upset. "How did this even happen?"

"I dunno," he replied before he pulled his hand back from her and covered the cut with his free hand. "I'll take care of it."

"How do you not — Logan, that's a pretty substantial cut not to know how you did it," Heather argued, her hands on her hips now that Logan had pulled away from her.

"Why don't you just worry about the kids?" he suggested. "I gotta .. I gotta fix this somehow."

"Let me help," she offered. "It's harder to bandage one-handed."

" _No_ ," he insisted. "I've got it."

For a moment, she took a step back from him, her eyes slightly wide, before she narrowed them and spun on her heel with a muttered, " _Fine_ ," as she headed off to go prep for the kids.

He could hear her pulling open drawers and slamming doors a little louder than necessary just so he was sure to know she was annoyed while he hurried through trying to patch himself up. He had to at least stop the bleeding before he made his way back to help her. He hated to say anything at all once she was over her slamming and stomping, but if he didn't, she'd get mad all over again and come looking for him. "What do you want me to do?" he asked once he finally got it under control.

"Just cut the meat," she told him, pointing toward a roast. "I don't want the littlest near the knives when they get here."

"Good idea," he muttered quietly with a frown as he got down to work. He glanced her way, wondering exactly how much he _could_ tell her before he shook it off. Nothing was the best answer. For now, anyway. If she knew what was going on — _at all_ — she'd get herself into trouble. But she had a point. No knives near the little ones. And that included him, as far as he was concerned.

Logan had barely finished helping Heather get everything ready when the flood of kids started — and it _was_ a flood. The orphans poured through the open door as soon as Heather had moved it even a crack, and of course, Elsie led the charge to try and tackle Logan as a group of girls were _determined_ that he should know _everything_ he missed. There was something about a snake, and something else about flowers, it was all a jumble of voices as they rushed toward him talking at once.

He tried to sidestep them, and kept his hands up over their heads as he tried to make his excuses about washing up. "Go … tackle Mac. He needs it."

Mac was bringing up the rear of the flood and already had a couple of boys attached to his legs, so he didn't really stand much of a chance when against the girls. He gave Logan a look that echoed his sentiments. "Thanks for that," Mac muttered his way as the clearly disappointed girls hemmed and hawed but ultimately went to tackle their new assignment.

The kids were mercifully diverted with the chance to help set the table, though as soon as they were seated, Logan's fan club was once again gathered comfortably around him. They talked over each other, catching him up on Mr. Groot's flower garden and how Rocket was getting old and how they were very good at taking care of him and how they'd found not only a garter snake but a very large spider that one of the boys tried to throw at them to scare them, but Groot made him apologize.

The whole time they spoke, Logan couldn't stop himself from rubbing the spot on his hand that had been cut earlier. It was a clear worry to himself about what to do about the stupid claws, but it resulted in him only half listening to the kids chatter.

"How'd that happen, anyway?" Scott asked across the table, drawing Logan's attention and getting him to try to find a way not to lie about it.

"Not sure," Logan said as he looked down to his hands again. "Didn't even feel it. Didn't see it was there until Heather pointed it out."

Scott nodded. "Yeah, I've done that carving before."

"Is that what you're doing now, Logan? Taking up carving?" Heather said with a sharpness to her gaze that wasn't in her tone — for the kids' sakes.

Logan let out a little sigh as he looked her way. "Probably just careless with my razor." Though that was clearly a lie, since Logan wasn't anywhere near clean-shaven.

Mac was watching the back and forth between Logan and Heather for a moment before he quirked an eyebrow Logan's way. "Somebody oughta teach you how to shave properly," he said with a bit of tease in his voice.

"You're not the first to say so," Logan replied with a little smirk, willing to take the brunt of jokes if it meant changing the subject.

"Yeah, I saw that firecracker of a stylist you got," Mac said, with a smirk to match his. "Think she'd teach the boys in the orphanage how to shave? Seems like she knows what she's doing."

"Not if she can monopolize their time and do it for them," Logan said with a shake of his head.

"Then how are they going to learn anything?" Mac laughed.

"Who says she wants to teach? She just wants to do it her way."

"Must be why you two get along so well," Heather grumbled at him.

"I'll have to ask her next time I see her. I'm sure she's got notes for you on that," Logan said. "On being pushy."

"Hey, be nice," Scott said with a bit of a frown Logan's way. "She's just trying to help."

But Heather waved her hand at Scott. "It's fine — he's _like_ this sometimes," she said, shaking her head at Logan.

At that, Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. There was no good way to argue out of this, and he just … he couldn't concentrate right anyhow. Not when he was making an effort not to keep his wrists flat in case he accidentally let his claws loose again.

Thankfully, one of the kids broke into the conversation with a very earnest, "Mrs. Heather, I lost my frog," that had half the girls squealing as it became suddenly _imperative_ that they find the slimy creature before one of the girls accidentally stumbled into it.

With everyone scrambling to find the missing frog, Logan silently slipped out of the kitchen and then out the back door. There were too many little ones clambering around, and he was convinced that something bad was going to happen at this point. As the noise crescendoed in the kitchen, he glanced over his shoulder and headed into the woods, feeling like human garbage for leaving the group at large behind him.

* * *

 _June 10_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

At this point, it was habit for Kurt to check up on his friend when Kurt got up in the morning using the tablet Tony had set up for him. Lately, though, there hadn't been much to see, because Logan seemed to be gone from his new home so often. And once he'd returned, he was spending a lot of his time outside — or at least, he was when Kurt checked in.

But Kurt _kept_ checking on him, determined to do _something_ to make sure his friend was alright, even if he couldn't do anything more that watch, really — not from where he was.

So he was a bit surprised when this morning, not only was Logan at home, but he had clearly already had coffee and breakfast — the mug still within arm's reach on the coffee table in front of him as Logan was sitting in his living room, the blinds drawn, simply studying his own hands for a long moment.

Then, as Kurt watched — well, he was sure he was misinterpreting what he was seeing for a moment, as it looked like long, metal claws were slowly coming out of the backs of Logan's _hands_. But that couldn't be right, could it?

Kurt hit the record button and set the tablet down for a moment, pacing a quick circle around his room and running his hands through his hair to make sure he was awake and that he wasn't half dreaming. But when he sat back down and watched the recording play through, he let out a whispered, " _Mein Gott_."

There were, in fact, claws coming out of his best friend's hands, the skin not even broken, somehow. Logan seemed to be testing the limits of what was clearly a sleeker and carefully-designed version of the claws that he'd had in the Games, slowly and carefully bringing the claws out and then retracting them just as slowly, his arms bare as Kurt realized that had to mean they were controlled with his own muscles, in his _own body_ somehow.

Kurt stared openly, not quite able to wrap his brain around it for some time before, finally, he whispered, "Logan, what have they done to you?"

He brought one hand up and rested it on the spot where, if not for the incredible healing methods that went with the Tahiti process, he would have had a three-pronged scar, just where Logan had stabbed him in the Games. It had been a year, and still he could feel it sometimes, could remember the sensation — he knew Logan couldn't have forgotten about it, either. But putting a reminder _inside_ him…. Making him carry it….

Kurt let out a scoff of a breath before he switched from the recording to a live feed, and he got that much angrier when he saw that Logan was no longer experimenting with the claws. Now, he was simply sitting in his living room with his head in his hands looking every bit as tortured as Kurt was sure he felt— and that was what decided it for Kurt.

He wasn't going to let this stand. He wasn't going to let his best friend live with that kind of constant reminder of what had happened, not when there was _no need_ , not when Kurt was alive and well and — he wasn't going to let it stand.

He didn't actually remember getting dressed, but he must have, because when he hit the hangar, he wasn't in his pajamas — small miracles — though he also wasn't the only one there.

Ororo glanced up at him in surprise. She had obviously just arrived to get in some early morning flight prep before a lesson, and she looked like she was geared up to go — though when she saw the look on Kurt's face, she was there in an instant. "What happened to you?" she asked with a deep frown.

"It's Logan," Kurt told her honestly, and that had her raising both eyebrows. But he looked past her at the transports in the hangar as it started to dawn on him that he wasn't actually a pilot. "I need to get to Seven," he told her.

She watched his expression for a moment longer before she nodded quickly. "This one's faster," she said, pointing toward one of the smaller jets. "But this one's better at stealth if we don't want to get caught."

"We?" he repeated with a bit of a frown.

"If you think I'm going to let you go anywhere without me ... looking like you do…" Ororo trailed off and shook her head. "What's wrong?" she asked, already moving to prep the jet for them. "Something has your tail in a twist."

For a moment, Kurt made an honest effort to figure out how to tell her — _what_ to tell her — but he was too livid to do it justice, so instead, he reached into his bag and pulled out the purple tablet Tony had designed for him to show her the recording as well as its aftermath.

Ororo was quiet through the whole thing, but her expression was not. She went from curious to alarmed when she saw the claws, and she glanced up at Kurt for a moment as it was clear she had the same thought he did — that she had misunderstood, that she wasn't really seeing what she was seeing. But Kurt nodded, and after that, Ororo settled into a glare that kept getting more intense the longer she watched, until she was positively livid by the time she saw Logan put his head in his hands.

She didn't say anything to Kurt, but she started working even faster than before to get the jet prepped. She was nearly done with her preflight when Wraith came in with a cheerful smile. "What's the big rush, little Goddess?" he asked as he watched her scrambling. "It's a laid-back day today."

She only spared him a glance for a moment before she pointed a finger at him. "You. You can get us to Seven faster."

Wraith's smile fell in an instant. "Woah, wait a minute. Who says we're going to Seven — and why?"

Kurt looked like he might try and explain the situation, but Ororo had one hand on her hip and her most commanding look. " _I_ say we're going to Seven. Because _someone_ has been exceedingly _stupid_ , and we have to go fix it."

"Okay, but there's currently a whole lotta stupid in Seven — so you're going to have to narrow it down for me before I agree to _any_ of this," Wraith said.

Kurt and Ororo shared a look, and Ororo tipped her head Wraith's way before Kurt simply nodded and handed Wraith the tablet, with the recording already queued up from when he showed it to Ororo.

He glanced up at Kurt with a frown as it started. "What are you two even doing with this footage?"

"That doesn't matter as much as what's _on_ this footage," Kurt insisted, tapping the edge of the tablet. "Do you know what they _did_ to him?"

Wraith looked confused for a moment and muttered out a soft 'no' as it got down to the claws, and then a look of dawning comprehension crept slowly across his face as he swore softly. The kids didn't know it — but it explained a _lot._ Like, for one, where the hell Logan had been for that week where Fury said he was 'sick'. And why he'd been so distracted ever since. But the kids didn't know they were on a team together — they didn't know he'd already seen the claws, and thought they were gauntlets.

"Alright. I see why you want to go check on your friend — but you can't do that," Wraith said at last, shaking his head. "You can't do that to him. Not now. Not this close."

"We have to see him. _I_ have to see him," Kurt insisted with a stubborn almost-glare at anything that seemed like it might hold him back from getting to his friend. "He can't go on thinking… I can help him. There's _no reason_ for this."

Wraith weighed it out for a moment. "Okay. So ... how about this. You go run this past Charlie Xavier. If he says go — I will fly you myself and give Fury the bird on the way out."

The two Tahiti kids glanced at each other again, frowns evident on their faces.

"Charlie has been talking to him," Wraith said. "He'd have a better handle on what the right thing to do is. I know it. You know it."

At that, both of them let out little breaths, and Ororo gave Kurt a meaningful look. "You go — call him up. I'll sit on the jet and make sure it's ready for us."

" _Danke_ ," Kurt muttered her way before he all but dashed off.

Charles was home in Ten, since all the victors were home before the Games started again — but he had a direct line in his office in case any of the kids needed to contact him. Kurt slammed the door behind himself as he swept into the office and called the line, his arms crossed and his foot tapping impatiently as he waited for Charles to pick up on the other end, and as soon as that happened, he blurted out, "Do you know what they _did to him_?"

"Kurt, I'm not sure who you're talking about. Who did what to whom?" Charles looked more than a little confused at the young man's outburst — especially since Kurt was usually far more polite. And made much more sense.

"Logan — I don't know who did it to him," Kurt said, frowning and trying to slow down as he struggled to put words to his pure fury. "But someone — someone gave him claws, Charles. Just like in the Games."

At that, the expression on Charles' face fell, and he nodded slightly. "They're not like the ones he made in the Games," Charles said in a low tone, the anger evident in his voice as well.

"I know that too," Kurt said before he narrowed his eyes. "So you _knew_?" he asked, unable to stop the accusation and betrayal in his tone.

"I saw him right after it happened," Charles admitted. "And your friend is in advanced states of both shock and denial."

"I need to see him," Kurt said, both of his hands on the table and his gaze bright.

"Yes," Charles agreed. "But not right now. He's not stable enough to handle it."

"Charles, I can't just sit here and let him hurt," Kurt argued. "I can't do that, not when it's unnecessary — he doesn't _need_ to hurt." He paused for just a moment. "What do you mean he can't handle it? It's Logan. Of course he can."

Charles looked sympathetic, but that didn't temper the fact that he was already shaking his head. "If you go — if you try _now_ — before he can process it—" He paused and looked pained at the thought. "I won't lie to you about him. I've tried to protect you both — but he is teetering on the edge. Your appearance could push him over that brink."

Kurt looked even more upset at that, his eyes wide. "If I'd gone to him sooner — if you'd _let_ me... " He let out a frustrated noise and threw his hands up, walking away from the communications relay for a moment as his temper had gotten the best of him and he was ready to _hit_ something. But after a few paces, he came back, still furious. "How did he get… how was he _allowed_ to get that bad?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

Charles looked weary as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He's been doing as he's been _told_. As a result, some people have chosen to look the other way and accept his word when he said he was fine, when he so clearly was _not._ "

"That _can't_ keep happening," Kurt said firmly. He took a deep breath. "I want to see him. As soon as possible. I'm not asking, Charles — I'll _find_ a way to see him."

"I know you will," Charles replied. "But please, let me make sure he can handle it first. Those claws … have taken a lot out of him. I think he's simply looking for a reason."

"Of course they have," Kurt snapped out, still on the verge of hitting something himself. "Who the hell approved — when everyone _saw_ the Games… Who thought that was a good idea?"

"I'm sure you already know the answer to that," Charles replied, unable to stop his own dark sort of expression at what had been done.

Kurt's eyes narrowed. " _Schwachkopf_ ," he said through his teeth. "I thought we were fighting a revolution _against_ those who manipulate, torture, and tear people down. Or was that a lie too?"

"It was no lie," Charles promised. "But this person has taken a keen interest in him and wants to try to make him into his own personal secret weapon."

"It's not enough that he has all of us _locked in_ here?" Kurt asked with a glare. "A group of _child_ fighters who have nowhere else to go? How is this different? How is this _better_?"

"You've seen the papers," Charles said, speaking each word slowly and carefully. "Your friend is drawing the attention of the Royals. With that kind of attention can come access to anywhere he wants. Places that until now, Fury has been unable to go. So, no, apparently, it's not enough."

"I thought that's what Peter Quill was getting married for," Kurt said angrily. "I _do_ read the papers, after all."

"Peter Quill doesn't have the right kind of tactical reasoning — and absolutely no poker face."

"So that's just another casualty then," Kurt said with a frown, his chest heaving as he thought of all that was happening — and everything he could be doing to stop it if he could only _get there_. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be able to leave — to instantly be in Seven. He was too furious and impatient even for the time a flight would take. "Are all the victors _used up_ like this?"

"Yes."

"And you expect us to just… _let_ it happen?" Kurt shook his head. "I can't do that."

"My dear boy, you don't know the half of it," Charles said, almost gently.

"That really doesn't make me feel any better," Kurt pointed out.

"I'm sure it doesn't," Charles said, though he looked more determined as he added, "And when I'm there again, I _will_ answer all your questions. In person."

Kurt let out all his breath, but he knew what Charles was saying, and he knew he was right. They couldn't talk about this, not on a SHIELD channel, not when SHIELD was the one doing this to his friend. "When you get back for the Games, then," he said, and the words tasted like defeat, but he didn't have any other options.

"Yes," Charles promised. "And I will make sure your friend is _actually_ alright."

"Please do," Kurt agreed with a bit of a sigh. He took a step back and muttered out a quick 'thank you' before he cut off the call, and with nowhere to direct his frustration — and the fact that he had to wait several _weeks_ before Charles would be back in the Capitol, before he would be done with the missions planned during the Games so he could _see_ Charles — he could feel the crash coming down around his ears.

He made his way back to the hangar, where Ororo was clearly still waiting for his go sign, but when he met her gaze, he just gave her the slightest shake of his head, and she looked downright disappointed.

"Are you sure?" she called his way, and he nodded, which only had her looking more annoyed at her inability to _do_ anything.

"Later," he told her, and he must have sounded tired, because the word was hardly out of his mouth before she all but flew at him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

"You better let me know when we're leaving, and so help you if you get a different pilot," she told him with a glare that didn't quite hold any heat for him despite the sharpness to her tone, and he couldn't help but smile at the determined look on her face as he hugged her right back. There was really nothing else he _could_ do when she was refusing to let him move an inch until he'd given her a proper hug.

"Everything okay?" Wraith asked, making his way over to the two of them.

Kurt looked Wraith's way for only a moment before he let out a sigh. "No ... but we can't do anything to change that right now," he said, his tone clearly frustrated.

"Well if you come up with a way? Let me know."

"I'll be sure to do that if you're here when it happens, but I won't wait," Kurt told him honestly before Ororo finally let him go, and he took a small step back. "I'll just leave you two to your lesson, then," he said with a tiny, passing smile.

Of course, Kurt had been planning to just head down to training to burn off some of the urge to _hit_ something, but he hit the hallway at nearly exactly the same time that Kate was leaving the cafeteria, and when she saw him, she ran over to him with a curious expression on her face.

"Where were you this morning?" she asked, pulling him into a quick hug as a greeting, though when she saw the expression he was still wearing, she frowned, looked him over more carefully, and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Okay. So. Who do I need to hit?" she asked, taking both of his hands in hers to root him to the spot so she could get properly caught up on just what was going on with him.

"For the moment? No one," Kurt said with a frown. "But I'll tell you later, and you can come with me when we do hit him," he added, and she nodded seriously at that.

"Okay, but ... that's a long time to wait," she pointed out. She watched him for a second as it was clear she was trying to decide between satisfying her curiosity and cheering Kurt up, but it was clear which one won out in the end when she finally took a step forward and kissed him for a good long time until they had to take a breath, breaking apart just long enough for her to grin at him. "I know a mat's open in the training room if you want to spar — or we could do some sword training. I bet you're a good teacher — better than Duquesne, anyway," she said with a sly grin.

"You're just trying to distract me," Kurt said.

"Is it working?" she asked, the grin widening.

"Better and quicker than it should," he admitted.

At that, she burst into a pleased sort of giggle and wrapped him up in another, longer kiss.


	62. The Deep Breath Before the Plunge

**Notes: Well, this is it for this story! It's been fun to see what these kids have been up to since they died in the Games. Volume 2, "The End of Childish Games" will be going up shortly after this posting. It will feature a Quarter Quell, a wedding, and the start of a revolution, so don't miss it!**

* * *

 **Chapter 62: "The Deep Breath Before the Plunge"**

* * *

 _June 10_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

As evening rolled around, Kurt wasn't nearly as murderous as he had been before, but Kate was still watching him, because she was sure that, even with her best efforts, he was still ticked off about something.

"Alright. That's it," she said as she snagged him by the collar, pulled him into a kiss, and then shook her head at him. "We're going somewhere. I don't care where. Vents're free — Clint's on a mission until later tonight. So just ... pick somewhere, and we're _gone_."

"Coulson's office. Or near to it anyhow," Kurt said, surprising Kate with the answer. She _had_ been offering to get away, but it seemed like he had a better way to focus some rage — and she wasn't about to say no on that account if it helped Kurt get over… whatever this was. Especially not if it helped her understand _what_ was going on.

Kate nodded and gave him a little smile. "Mav showed me how to deal with lasers. We can eavesdrop all we want, sweetheart," she said, grabbing him by the hand so they could head off to the vents together — the first one she could find that didn't have a camera on it.

"You sure we can get close enough?" Kurt whispered.

She gave him a little _look_. "Are you doubting me?"

"I just want to be sure," Kurt replied. He paused, grinned, and brought her hand up to his lips to kiss it. "I would never be so foolish as to doubt you."

She smirked at him and gave him another quick kiss before she climbed into the vent, with Kurt not far behind her, both of them moving quickly — or as quickly as possible when they were still trying to be sneaky. And, true to Kate's word, she was able to get past the lasers, deflecting them the way Mav had showed her — back into the sensors — so that they didn't set anything off.

Finally, they were able to get right up next to the vent that overlooked Coulson's desk, and Kate rolled to the side so Kurt could scoot up closer to her. The office was empty for the moment, but Kate grinned at him all the same. "Ta da," she whispered before she stole another kiss as payment for her troubles.

He gave her a sly smile before he kissed her right back, and the two of them simply spent their time getting a little more acquainted as they waited for Coulson to show up.

The only reason Kurt had even considered trying to stake out Coulson's office was because he knew that the man was set to visit Tahiti soon, and sure enough, it was a good twenty minutes later that Coulson arrived in the office to run a quick debrief with Clint, who had just gotten back from a sniper mission. It was a fairly short debriefing, since all Clint said was, "He's dead; you're welcome," and then more or less gave any answers to any further questions Coulson might have — though at that point, "he's dead, you're welcome" meant there weren't any complications anyway, and Coulson knew it.

Clint was barely gone all of five minutes before a call came in from Xavier, and Kurt and Kate glanced at each other with raised eyebrows. Kurt especially was intrigued, considering how his most recent conversation with Charles had gone. "I hope your work topside is going well," Charles said as a means of breaking into the conversation gently.

"You know how it gets this time of year," Coulson replied with a bit of a sigh.

"I do indeed," Charles replied. There was hardly a pause before he continued, "I'm sorry to trouble you further at such a busy time, but I had a theory I wanted to run by you."

"Go ahead," Coulson said with a nod. "I've got a little time — my debrief ran short."

"Clint again?" Charles asked with a fond smile.

"You know how those go," Coulson said, a light smirk in his own expression.

"Then I hate to ruin your mood," Charles said before he drew in a breath. "But I've been putting some thought to the Windsor issue. And I think … we have him close at hand."

That had Coulson sitting up a bit straighter, an obvious frown on as he leaned in. "How close?" he asked.

"I'd say he's generally within a stone's throw," Charles told him. "In the complex — and until quite recently — part of Tahiti."

Coulson let out a breath. "Essex," he said on the exhale more than anything, though he had to shake his head a bit. "Are you sure?"

"From the clues that Miss Romanoff felt comfortable revealing, and some of the rumors I've heard from other sources, the description of the two men line up nearly perfectly."

Coulson took a long and deep breath and ran a hand over his face. "And he's been here in Tahiti ... and here I thought we plugged the leak with Ward…." he said softly.

"I'm sure that you'll find in a program with that level of secrecy, there are always leaks," Charles said.

"That's not supposed to be the case here," Coulson pointed out. "They were all hand-picked. Every last one of the people who know about this."

"No, it's not," Charles agreed. "But for someone like him — who had access across district lines for years — there had to be some difficult bumps."

"Of course there were, but we chalked it up to ego," Coulson admitted, the frown deepening as he thought it over. Finally, he let out one great big sigh. "I'd go find him myself, but you should know there's only so much we can do right now — we _need_ him for the Games, for Tahiti. Replacing him now, just weeks before the Games, would be pretty much impossible," he said, sounding more frustrated than the two eavesdroppers in the vents were used to.

"I understand," Charles said, and neither Kate nor Kurt missed the drop of annoyance in Charles' tone as well. "But I thought you might want to keep a closer eye until it's over."

"Absolutely," Coulson agreed, this time with a bit of fire in his gaze. "I'll cut off his access to anything but the medical process — he won't have access to any of the kids that are _living_ in Tahiti. From this Games or previous ones." He tipped his head back to look at the ceiling as he looked annoyed about the whole thing.

"I'm sure that Henry would be more than happy to review the notes for any future uses."

"Honestly, I'm hoping this is the last use, but I'll be sure to get all the notes from his office when I run him out."

"With Fury's little squadron, I'd be surprised if this is the last run," Charles said dryly.

"The last big run, at least. We barely have enough supplies for all the ones we want this time as it is," Coulson clarified.

"Fair enough," Charles agreed.

There was a bit of a pause as both men seemed to be considering the situation before Coulson said, "There was an incident earlier today with Kurt and Ororo."

"Yes, I'm aware," Charles said with a nod. "They have every right to be concerned."

"They had the jet prepped and ready to go," Coulson admitted, though it looked like he had the slightest of proud smiles on that he couldn't quite stop.

"Yes, and it would have been disastrous," Charles said.

"I've been informed," Coulson said. "And told that I have you to thank for stopping it. But you have to admit ... those kids…" He smiled a bit to himself.

Charles smiled and nodded. "They're wonderful. And if the circumstances were any different, I'd have urged them to do what they thought was right."

"Then it's really that bad with Fury's favorite project?" Coulson asked, and he sounded not surprised — more disheartened than anything else.

"Much worse than he's willing to listen to," Charles said. "That last little trick …" He shook his head slowly.

"I swear, my team thought he'd consented," Coulson said in a tone that clearly read he'd made the same pronouncement a dozen times over.

"I know," Charles said. "And no one blames them — not even him. But he is doubting everything he does at this point — when he's not in the field. Which is likely what Fury wanted."

"Keep him going out and keep him away from anything else," Coulson said, shaking his head with a frown. "I keep telling him this isn't the SHIELD I signed up for, but if this keeps up past the tour…"

"It _can't,_ " Charles said.

"It _won't_ ," Coulson agreed. He paused, smiled, and said, "Otherwise, I'll send in Wagner and the rest of that little team. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to fix that problem."

"I'm sure if you simply point them toward their friend, that would be enough." Charles paused for just a moment. "My vote is still sooner rather than later."

"You know mine is too. We just — we need to get through these Games first, and get these last few kids on their feet before we throw that at them."

"And hope that this one hangs in there long enough," Charles said.

"If you think he's teetering any more than he is — if you think sending any of these kids would help, I will personally sign the orders."

"He needs someone to focus on outside of missions," Charles said. "That isn't in the system or part of a team."

"I know he's got a good group in Seven — Groot has been taking care of them while he's gone, and the reports he's been writing me …. They're doing wonders for him, too. Don't think he's ever been this talkative, even if it's all in writing."

"Well that's good to hear on its own," Charles said with a laugh. "He won't talk to me — so you'll have to rely on your own eyes to see if he's alright before the Games."

"Yeah, I heard about the 'static on the line' excuses," Coulson said with the ghost of a smirk.

"Once we're in the Capitol, he'll have Jessica to watch him — along with some of the younger victors in the open. The rest of ours are on board as well."

"Bobbi's already promised to try and keep Sarkissian's attention off him," Coulson said with a nod. "Apparently, they've been getting closer while they're in Two."

"Which would be easier to do if they'd send her home again this year, but I doubt that will happen. Not with the drama they've drawn up."

"No, we're sending Masters home this year," Coulson admitted.

"Then I'll be sure to tell Jessica to stay close — or as close as we can arrange." Charles paused. "There isn't going to be any more trouble from the royals, is there?"

"Not that I'm aware of — and our sources on that are pretty solid," Coulson said, then paused. You're going to want to keep a close eye on Quill too. Last time we spoke, he looked like he was a second from falling apart — moreso than usual, and I don't just mean mentally."

"Oh, absolutely," Charles agreed. "It's a shame Groot won't be there. They seem to get along well... but I'll see that Drax gets some time to try and cheer him up."

"I've got Sam and Rhodey on it as well," Coulson agreed before he leaned back and let out a long and weary sigh. "It's going to be rough this year, Charles. I won't lie to you."

"Yes, well. Somehow I'm not surprised. They wanted it to hurt more this year."

"Just this last time," Coulson said, as much as a promise to himself as to Charles. "And then we'll be done with this nonsense for good, I promise you that."

"I hope you're right," Charles said before he gave him a tight smile. "Take care of yourself."

"And you," Coulson replied before he switched off the transmission and just sat back in his chair in heavy silence, clearly deep in thought and just… tired.

And in the vents above Coulson's office, two teenagers were scooting very carefully backwards and away from the vent cover, careful not to make even the slightest noise until they got to the vents at the residential areas and came out in Kate's room, though as soon as they were out, she turned to face him with a look somewhere between curious and murderous — one that he was wearing almost identically.

"That was a lot more than I thought we'd hear," Kurt said quietly. And the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that it was no coincidence Charles had brought up everything that he had not too long after Kurt had spoken with him. He had to wonder if Charles knew just how much intelligence gathering the kids in Tahiti were able to do — he seemed to have a knack for knowing far more than people gave him credit for.

"Yeah, no kidding," she said, shaking her head. She pushed some of the hair that had fallen out of her headband back into place. "Kurt — what's with you and 'Ro teaming up and not telling me?" she asked before he could say anything else.

"It was a spur of the moment thing. I was … furious, and I wasn't thinking," Kurt admitted. "She was in the hangar on my way out."

"What were you planning on doing, anyway?" she asked.

"I had to go find Logan," Kurt said as he made his way over to dig out the purple tablet. He held up one finger as he got the video ready to play, then handed it over. "This was this morning."

Kate frowned Kurt's way for just a moment before she pressed 'play' on the video, though she only made it through a few moments of Logan experimenting with his claws before she had jumped straight into rage and looked up at Kurt expectantly. "Well, where is he? You went and got him, right?"

"Wraith stopped us. Keep watching."

She frowned at him and watched a while longer, though it didn't seem to calm her down in the least. "So we shoot Wraith to a wall with Pete's web stuff and go get him," she reasoned. "Not too hard."

"Charles told me how close he is to the edge. We can't. Not yet."

At that, Kate stopped glaring and looked _upset_. "Well, when?" she demanded. "Can't we … we have to do _something_. We can't just… _look at him_!" She waved her hand at the tablet. "This wouldn't have happened if he was here with us! Bobbi's here — Rhodey's here. How come he's not, huh? He _should be_."

"I've been wondering that same thing all day," Kurt said. "There has to be more that we don't know."

"Well it's just… _stupid_." Kate crossed her arms and looked mad enough to go knock down Fury's door herself. "It is. It's just crap."

"It is. I just don't know what we can do yet."

She had to nod her reluctant agreement at that. There really _wasn't_ much they _could_ do, and so for a moment, she could only fall into silent glaring — though when she came out of it again, it was to say, "Well… in the meantime… Essex."

"Yes. _Windsor._ "

"I think I heard that name once when Clint was talking about Natasha, but…" She frowned. "We'd have to ask them. But if it's from Nat's old days? It can _not_ be good."

"Let's go find him. We know he's back from his mission," Kurt pointed out. "Besides," he added with the ghost of a smile. "It's something we know we _can_ do."

"True," she said, matching his light smile as the two of them headed down toward the rec room, where Clint had already changed out of his mission wear and was playing pool with Peter.

"Hey, Clint, can we borrow you for a second?" Kate asked, and Clint looked up from the game to grin at them sideways.

"Sure thing, Katie Kate," he said. "Pete's losing anyway. Might as well give him a break."

"I am _not_ ," Peter shot Clint's way, but Clint just ruffled his hair.

"It's okay, Pete. You just go ahead and keep telling people that," he said with both teasing and affection obvious in his tone before he gestured for Kate and Kurt to lead the way somewhere a little more private, into one of the other common areas that no one was using.

"So, what's up?" he asked, the smile faltering a bit when he realized that both of them looked rather serious.

"What can you tell us about a man named 'Windsor'?" Kurt asked.

Clint's smile fell entirely, and he settled into a scowl. "Where'd you hear that name?" he almost snapped.

"Just answer the question," Kate said with her arms crossed.

Clint raised an eyebrow her way, but then when he saw that both of them looked deadly serious, he let out a sigh and dropped into the nearest seat, motioning for them both to do the same. "Guy's from the Red Room, but he's got connections in the Capitol somehow, in SHIELD. Nat won't tell me more than that, but he's the whole reason it took her a year just to join the rest of us," he told them in a low tone that they had to lean forward to catch.

Kurt looked toward Kate. "Oh … this is just typical," he said. "I'm starting to wonder about SHIELD's vetting process."

"No kidding," Kate said, shaking her head before she turned to Clint. "Okay, so ... Windsor? Is totally Essex."

Clint stared at her openly for a long moment, jaw dropped, before he closed his mouth and had to visibly recompose himself. "That actually makes a heckuva lotta sense," he said, though he looked positively livid as he glanced toward the cameras in the far corner of the room. "Explains why Nat was so chummy with him…" He shook his head and then glanced up at the two of them. "So, when do we kill him?"

"Not until after the Games," Kurt said. "Apparently, he's the one that knows the TAHITI process better than anyone else."

"Well that's just _typical_ ," Clint said, echoing Kurt's earlier sentiment. "That's just… _of course_ they need him. There's _always_ something." He looked more furious and murderous than Kate and Kurt had ever seen from him.

"But when it's all done — Coulson and Charles are totally out to get him, so ... look forward to some serious Van Helsing-ing," Kate said with a little smirk as she put a hand on Clint's arm to try to placate him before he got too worked up.

"Well good. 'Bout time he lived up to that title again, if this guy's freaking _Windsor_ ," Clint said. Kurt recognized the little motions he was making with his hands as the same ones Kate did when she was unconsciously reaching for her bow. "Coulson can help, but I want this guy's head, alright? Soon as the Games are over, we're not waiting for the old fuddy-duddies." He looked between the other two as they just nodded their agreement, and he got to his feet. "I'm going to find Nat, let her know I know — _we_ know."

"We'll tell Peter," Kate said with a little nod. "He'll want to be part of the vampire hunt."

"Good luck with Natasha," Kurt said, and he and Kate headed off with a little purple tablet in tow to go find Peter and fill him in on, well, everything.

The two of them had hardly been gone for a few seconds before Clint all but burst down the hall toward where he knew Natasha would be in one of the training rooms, and sure enough, he found her practicing with a staff — since no one would let her near pointy objects alone, so she couldn't play with knives.

"Nat!" he burst out. "Nat — you didn't tell me Windsor was _Essex_. Why didn't you _tell me_? I could have shot the creep between the eyes _months ago_!"

Natasha stopped what she was looking to glance at Clint, wide-eyed, before she took a deep breath and schooled her expression into something a little more neutral. "Where did you hear that?" she asked carefully.

"Katie told me," Clint said. "Seriously, Nat, the guy's been under our roof this _whole time_ and you didn't _tell me_?"

"I couldn't," she pointed out. "Not then, anyway. And by the time I got here — well, I haven't seen any sign of him. I assumed Fury was taking care of it."

"No, he just _reassigned_ the guy," Clint said, shaking his head. "But no worries; Van Helsing and Charles plan to run him out of town — and I plan to be there to shoot him in the head. Wanna come?" He shot her a brilliant kind of sideways smile as if he was inviting her to the movies or to a park.

But Natasha paused for a long time. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know… I haven't seen him since Charles got the Red Room out of my head, and I…." She shook her head and let out a heavy sigh before she met Clint's gaze. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do when I run into people from back then. Kill them or just… run."

Clint watched her for a second with a frown evident on his face. He hadn't ever heard something that honest and _open_ from her before, and he didn't know how to deal with it, just as much as she apparently didn't know how to deal with her own past. Finally, he tipped his head to the side. "Want to spar?" he asked, reaching for a long staff near the mat. "I could use it."

She looked a bit surprised by the sudden change in subject, but when she met Clint's gaze, she slowly started to smile and nodded. "Yes, I think I could use it too," she admitted, falling into a defensive stance. "Are you sure your usual partner won't mind?" she couldn't help but ask.

Clint waved his hand. "Long as you don't put me in medical through next month when she gets back, she'll be fine," he said, though almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Natasha had attacked with a hit so strong it had him taking a few steps back. "He-ey!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you need a countdown?" she asked with a smirk. "Maybe I should have announced my attack."

"You're a cheater, Romanoff."

"So are you, Barton," she shot back as she squared up again, and Clint couldn't help but chuckle as they fell into the easy, familiar rhythm of sparring together.

* * *

 _June 20_

 _Tahiti Wing_

* * *

For the most part, the Tahiti program as a whole was focused on prepping for the Games — not only for the missions they would be running while Thanos' attention was distracted but also for the fact that they'd be getting more members added to their ranks, so they needed to prepare for the new additions and all the training they'd need to help with on that end.

But all that work was temporarily put on hold, at Wade's insistence, because it was his birthday — and even better, Cassie's was that same week. So it _had_ to be a double celebration. It just had to be.

Wade had the theme all picked out, too. He wanted a luau, because, as he pointed out, they were supposed to be in "Tahiti," so they might as well embrace the island theme, right?

Of course, it was hard to have much of a luau underground, with no way to bury a pig, no beach, no sand, no surf — but they made do with what they had. Paper flowers, luau music, and themed snacks. Cassie particularly liked the smoked pineapple, and she spent most of the time the other kids were setting up perched on the table snacking on pineapple rings and 'supervising'.

"How's it feel to be eight?" Luke asked with a teasing grin as he sat down beside her, and she slugged him in the shoulder.

" _Fifteen_ ," she corrected him, and he just sort of chuckled as she added, "Fifteen in five days."

"Right, right, I keep forgetting, because you're so tiny," he teased her, and she huffed at him and stuck her tongue out. "Seriously, Cas, when are you going to hit a growth spurt? You've been four feet tall as long as I've known you."

"You're not funny, Luke."

"Not even a little bit?" he teased, and she rolled her eyes _so hard_ at him.

"She's too busy being adorable to be bothered with growing. Duh," Wade pointed out. "That or, you know, Tahiti'll stunt your growth, young lady."

Cassie let out a huge breath as she shook her head Wade's way. "Don't jinx me like that, because if I'm stuck under five feet my whole life, I _will_ blame you," she warned him, leveling her finger at him.

"I'll just have to carry you around like Yoda on my back," he said with a shrug.

"You _would_ be taller then," Luke pointed out with a little smirk, which just got Cassie to smack him in the arm again.

"I hate you both," she said, though she was definitely grinning and trying not to laugh, especially since her self-appointed 'big brother' was teaming up on her _with_ her boyfriend, which was nice for a change.

Wade gasped dramatically. "I'm _crushed_. They grow 'em _mean_ in Twelve."

"You know that's right!" Kate called out from across the room.

"He hasn't even met America yet," Cassie called back with a crooked grin.

Kate laughed outright. "Ooh, that'll be fun. Make sure he wears padding."

Cassie shook her head at Kate and laughed before Peter came over to plop down close by and join her in snacking on the pineapple. "I dunno — maybe you're just a few months behind. You could grow when you turn fifteen. I mean. We were all dead for a while — d'you think that pushes back our birthdays? We haven't _technically_ been alive for that long, right? Wade's still seventeen and some change in terms of time lived?"

"That sounds like a lot of refiguring and math that I want no part of," Kate teased him.

"Well, if we go by the day we were brought back to life, then …" Wade stopped and looked at Cassie with wide eyes. "You're a _giant_ for your age."

Cassie broke out into little giggles at that, though she managed to point out, "And you've got quite the vocabulary for not even being a year old!"

"Doesn't that make Cassie and Luke the oldest ones here?" Ororo asked with a little smirk.

"Oh no. We're not celebrating from the time we wake up," Peter said, shaking his head. "That's not where I was going with this. We — we are _not_ celebrating death-days."

"That would mean that Coulson was our Daddy," Wade said, ignoring Peter entirely as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "And Essex was Mom. No _wonder_ we all have issues."

"I'll thank you to never refer to Essex as 'Mom' ever again," Clint said, pulling a horrible face.

"Why not?" Wade asked. "He _is_ a little bitch."

"Because then Coulson would have had to… you know…" Clint looked even more disturbed as he let the sentence hang.

"Clearly, he was drunk," Wade said with a wave.

"Yes. Eighteen times."

"We should have an intervention," Wade said thoughtfully.

"Oh yeah. After the Games," Kate pointed out with a single raised eyebrow.

"And let him go through that another seven or eight times or whatever? No sir-ee Bob."

"Well, they _are_ separated," Clint pointed out.

"Yeah, this is too weird to think about, so we're just going to _not_ celebrate death-days," Peter broke in with an insistent sort of look.

"Not death days, web-head," Wade said as he threw his arm around Peter's shoulders. "Re-alive days. Why would we celebrate death days?"

Peter just shook his head and ducked out from underneath Wade's arm. "Besides," he continued. "We all know _Charles_ is the mom friend here."

"He did tell me how to braid my hair," Wade said thoughtfully.

"No worries, Pete; we won't have reanimation days," Clint assured him with a crooked grin. "Otherwise, I'd be Wade's twin, and that stops _here_."

"I don't know — I like _my_ twin," Ororo broke in with a little grin at Steve, who rolled his eyes and had to laugh at that.

"You do bear a striking resemblance," Wade said with a nod. "Though one of you looks all authoritative, and the other … is blonde."

"She _is_ the Goddess here," Steve said with a smirk.

"And ten seconds older, I'm sure," Clint laughed.

"We're not… no." Peter shook his head again. "I was just saying _some_ of us weren't even alive for months at a time, so are we _really_ that old?"

"Peter's having an existential crisis," Kurt teased his friend, which got Peter to cut him another sharp look.

"Is nobody else curious about this?"

"Okay, here's the deal, Spider-kid," Wade said, again pulling him close, though this time, he was sure to wrap both arms around him. "Strictly speaking, birthdays count the time we've spent here on this rock — alive or dead. So. You are no younger than you were before — and no older than you're supposed to be." He gave him a quick kiss on the cheek for his troubles before he let him go.

"That… see, why can't you give answers like that all the time?" Peter asked, shaking his head. "That actually makes _sense_."

"It happens," Cassie called out with a little laugh. "More often than you think."

"Yeah, but you're biased," Peter pointed out, rubbing his cheek.

"So. Let's get the party rolling, shall we?" Wade suggested before he gave Peter another peck on the cheek just to irritate him.

"Right. Tony — cue the music!" Cassie called out, which just had their resident tech genius grinning a bit to himself as he pulled up the luau music and Wade pulled Cassie down off of her table so he could teach her — and anyone else who got too close — how to do his best imitation of a hula dance.

* * *

 _June 30_

 _Jubilee and Noh-Varr's Apartment_

* * *

"Are you guys nervous?" Doreen asked as she hugged her sketchbook to her chest.

She and the entire team from Eight, plus Mary Jane, were all piled into Jubilee and Noh's place ahead of the Reapings. The two stylists were hosting more or less a slumber party, since the Reapings started early in the morning, and the stylists needed to watch in order to draw ideas for their outfits — and it was easier to watch that kind of thing with friends, especially if one of them got a smaller tribute or someone who burst into tears; that was always hard to design for when the overwhelming urge was to draw a big blanket around them instead.

"Little bit, yeah," GoGo admitted, though Honey gave her a reassuring smile. It was GoGo's first year as a fully-fledged stylist and not just as part of Honey's prep team, though of course, everyone was sure she'd be amazing at it, since she had worked so hard to get there.

"This is the easy part," MJ assured both girls with a soft sort of smile. "The hard part is meeting them in person. Some of them disagree _heavily_ with your ideas."

"Peter Quill gave you fits; I remember that," Noh said with a little laugh her way.

"He wanted a helmet that covered his _face_ , Noh. I'm not doing that — he's too adorable, especially when he was sixteen and still had those cheeks," MJ pointed out.

"And you did get plenty of sponsors that year," Noh had to agree, though he was shaking his head at her.

"Aren't _you_ nervous, Noh?" GoGo asked with one eyebrow raised. "I mean, since this is your last year and all."

"Relieved. Relieved would be a better word for it," Noh said, shaking his head. "I'll be glad to move on to other things," he added, this time with a glance Jubilee's way and a little smile.

"It'll be glorious," Jubilee agreed with a grin.

"Not to mention the fact that you two can celebrate her birthday sans the Games that way," GoGo muttered with a spark of trouble in her eyes.

"Sans several things," Jubilee muttered under her breath.

"What about your victor, Jubes?" Honey asked quietly. "Is he… well. _Does_ he get nervous?"

"Nervous about what?" Jubilee asked. "I don't think it's possible — and if it is, he never shows it."

"Well, this is his first Games after the fact," MJ pointed out reasonably. "I know Peter had a hard time mentoring his first year, and he's not the only one."

"Knowing Logan, the only problem he'll have is _not_ helping all the little ones." Jubilee paused and tipped her head to the side. "And … not beating up his fellow mentor."

"To be fair, that's hard not to do," GoGo said, giving Noh a significant look.

"Infinitely so," Noh agreed without hesitation.

"I just hope there aren't so _many_ little ones this year," Honey muttered quietly. "Last year was so hard, especially with Team Awesome…." She shook her head. "I was really rooting for Peter, but the little ones almost never win. I know Jess did it when she was fifteen, but… it's rare."

"In a Quarter Quell?" Noh let out a breath. "I have a feeling there will be… more _umph_ this year. At the very least from the Careers."

"Misery. The word you're looking for is misery," Jubilee said.

"Yes, well — that and terror," Noh admitted. He let out a sigh. "I'm so glad to be leaving this job."

Jubilee popped up on her toes to give him a kiss. "Looking forward to pancakes and easy mornings, then?"

"Oh yes," he agreed with a little smile. "Designing from home — I may not even put on a shirt until winter comes again."

"That sounds lovely," she said with a grin. "I endorse this fashion choice."

"You two can't possible just ... wait? For a few more days?" GoGo asked, shaking her head. "Or take it somewhere private?"

"Hey. You came here. There is a level of expectation when you come here," Jubilee said with one hand on her hip and the other pointing a finger GoGo's way. "Don't like it? Look away. Divert your eyes."

"You invited us," GoGo said, returning the point. "You're the hosts here, firecracker."

"And you KNEW what you were getting into. So." Jubilee stuck her tongue out at her.

"She's just jealous," Honey teased lightly.

"Settle in girls," Noh advised, shaking his head at the group of them. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow — for everyone."


End file.
